


A Different Kind of Magic

by PeachyMars



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Lilo & Stitch (2002)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chapters contain individual warnings, Eventual Romance, Friends to Lovers, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderfluid Character, Healthy Relationships, Magic and Science, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Character, Other, Pleakley's first name is changed because he canonically hates it, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Slow Burn, gender shouldn't apply to aliens, nonbinary couple
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2019-09-17 01:16:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16964973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeachyMars/pseuds/PeachyMars
Summary: The Galactic Federation recruits a new agent from an unknown planet, and assigns Pleakley as their mentor. Neither of them expect the chance meeting to change their lives and shake the very foundations of their beliefs.(Rated T for some themes & swearing, and to be safe)





	1. Formalities

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! For those wondering, this story is an AU/alternate universe and events will pan out differently than the L&S canon. The main character, Jackson, is nonbinary and their pronouns are strictly they/them. There will be points in time where they appear masculine and others where they appear feminine. If you'd like a full visual, you can see my art of Jackson here: https://toyhou.se/2204385.archmage-jackson/gallery 
> 
> This is a "write as I go" fic and my first fic I've ever posted, so I'll admit I'm a little nervous. I'm big on OC/Canon and a lot of alternate universes and ideas, so expect that from me! Your feedback and comments/kudos mean a lot to me and are totally welcome. Enjoy!

     Numerous footsteps tapped along a pristine metal floor, so polished that one could see their reflection in it almost perfectly like that of a mirror. Chrome walls were lined with flags of deep blue emblazoned with gold trim and an emblem that looked much like a spaceship, with arches and lines framing the shape in the center. To many, this symbol was one of familiarity and comfort. To a confused and somewhat anxious creature that had never left the safety of their home city, let alone an entire planet, it was entirely foreign and held no meaning at all.

     The Galactic Federation was founded centuries ago, its duty and main mission to enforce safety across galaxies and various planets. In the entrance hall of its largest base stood a sizable group of recruits. They wore their new uniforms proudly, the very same blue and gold on the flags that hung nearby. They all talked excitedly amongst themselves- hushed, though able to speak the same tongue despite no two individuals looking the same. Perhaps it was standard to know this language and be able to communicate.

     Among the group was one individual that couldn't help but turn their head to glance at one of the flags every now and then. A cyclops with umber skin and dark hair stood within the group, uneven horns sprouting from their head; the left was longer than the right. They were just about the height to blend in with everyone else, but upon closer inspection they stood out quite a bit. For once, they didn't feel too small or too large, though the flags on the wall dwarfed everyone present.

 

     "Attention!"

     A voice that came and broke the peace and excitement was a firm one with a deep baritone, sound stomps so heavy that they nearly shook the entire hall coming along with it. All of the gathered recruits that had been talking immediately fell silent, eerily enough so that one could hear a pin drop in the room. No one dared to speak out of turn when a twenty foot tall alien made his presence known. He moved to the front of the group and stood at the very center.

     In one enormous hand was a clipboard, made to work for someone of his size, and his features resembled that of a shark's. His eyes were a piercing blue among his slate grey skin, his muscular form visible through an almost skintight Captain's uniform, black with red trim. What appeared to be two grey horns curved from the sides of his wide face.

 

     "We all know why you're here." He said bluntly, getting right to the point. "It is my pleasure to welcome you all to the Galactic Federation. If you're standing here, it means that you passed your preliminary tests where your missing peers have failed. Many of you made it by only the skin of your teeth, so don't get too cocky. I am Captain Gantu. You will refer to me as Captain, or simply 'Sir.' Is that clear?"

     "Yes, Sir!" The voices of the recruits responded in unison. All but one.

     "Good. Now, all of you were tested and placed in the appropriate rank and department to suit your skillsets. These decisions are final. Some of you will find yourselves in better positions than you expected, while others will be disappointed. When I call your name, step forward- you'll be given your rank and post."

 

     The dark cyclops stood with their jaw clenched, brow furrowed, and lips slightly curved downward in a frown. It was the exact opposite demeanor and mood present by the majority. The others wore smiles; their eyes were bright with excitement. In fact, they were so excited and focused on this gathering and ceremony of sorts, that their perplexed and uncomfortable comrade seemed almost nonexistent to them. The willingness to submit and obey someone they'd just met claiming to be an authority figure so easily, and without question, was foreign. Was this a cult? It seemed like it.

     "Merhl Grokod." The Captain almost barked out the first name as if it were a command of its own. A small and meek alien with white and ivory -speckled skin with several tentacles in the place of arms and hair stepped forward. "Fifth class, Department of Diplomatic Affairs. Welcome aboard."

     "Thank you, Captain!" The named alien was obviously satisfied with this placement, taking a small card that the much larger man offered them.

 

     One by one, over what seemed like hours, names were called. The cyclops in the very center felt the hairs on the back of their neck rise, wondering if they would be next. Fists clenched, they chewed on their lower lip slightly while still standing at attention, though it was obvious that they were tense. Now, hopefully- no, someone else. Maybe I'll be next. Their thoughts were chaotic, a cacophony of anxious what-ifs as they almost prayed to be called. Given how much of an outsider they were, being placed into their future post last and without anyone else watching would probably be a blessing at this point.

 

     "Jackson Belmont."

     Their name finally being spoken felt like a weapon striking their stomach. Immediately they stepped forward, rigid in their movements. Jackson quickly drew an arm across their chest with a clenched fist and tilted their head forward. Best to make a good impression instead of a bad one. Show respect, show respect. Don't mess this up. They felt their face begin to grow hot and nervous as they stood before the towering Captain, who only raised an eyebrow.

 

     "Is this a salute, Agent Belmont?"

     "Yes, Captain. Of my people. Is it a disrespectful gesture to your own?"

     "No. Your respect is appreciated. However..."

 

     The last word made Jackson glance up with surprise, though they were still expecting the worst.

     Captain Gantu looked perplexed for a moment, a finger going to his chin, eyes narrowing.

     "Your results of your preliminaries both impress and worry me. And, to my surprise... you are a new agent for the first time in seventy-four Turian years to be placed in... Second Class. Congratulations."

 

     A wave of gasps and whispers went across the crowd of other recruits behind them both. Jackson's face grew hotter. Any more and they felt like they would be boiling alive. Second Class, a high rank for a newbie. That was something to be proud of, until...

     "Your post will be in the Department of Outreach to Unknown Terrestrials, also known as OUT."

 

     Instantly, the awestruck recruits went silent. Jackson stared up at the Captain with a wide eye and tried not to glance behind them, tempting as it was. Gantu's face was stony, almost one of disappointment himself at reading Jackson's placement results. What the cyclops was not expecting, however, was to hear sudden uproarious laughter.

     It was obvious. They were laughing at Jackson. Their face turned darker both from being mortified and confused. And, by the sound of it, there was absolutely no combat or defense involved in such a department. Jackson felt dizzy for a moment as the world seemed to spin, and their vision blurred, body feeling heavy yet weak. The laughter roared in their ears, which were long enough to tilt back. Gantu's brows furrowed once the other recruits broke out into hysterics, stomping a foot so hard that the room shook.

 

 _"SILENCE!"_ He shouted, his voice echoing down the hall. Just as quickly as they'd started laughing, the recruits went dead silent again. "Agent Belmont, you will report to your post and assigned mentor immediately."

     "Wait- C-Captain- Sir-" Jackson sputtered, crumbling enough to break their salute, hands clasped at their chest. "Permission to ask a question?" Their voice shook, tone almost fearful for daring to ask. After all, everyone had been told that this decision      was final.

     "Granted." Gantu was staring at the clipboard now, eyes half-lidded with boredom. He'd done this many times before. "But make it quick."

     "I mean no disrespect Sir, and I _completely_ understand that my people have never been involved in the Galactic Federation. At least, until now," Jackson began, composing themselves and standing upright with arms at their sides. "But I'm confused. You say my results impress you, yet I'm being placed in a post that is obviously so low and unwanted that it's laughable. Why? I excel in combat, Sir. I am a trained fighter and can wield many weapons-"

 

     Gantu silenced Jackson by holding up a hand. The cyclops straightened again and stared at the floor in shame, seeing their only slightly distorted reflection below.

     "That's enough, Agent Belmont. You'll come with me." The largest alien in the room glowered at the rest of the agents not yet placed. "The rest of you will wait here while I handle this matter. I'll be back, but I'll call for a Commander to finish placing you all."

 

     The Captain turned on one heel and walked away, his steps so precise and rhythmic as if he were marching, and Jackson could only follow in his immense shadow. They were careful not to get too close, Gods forbid they get stepped on and squished under a huge foot.

 

* * *

 

     Captain Gantu's office was nearly as large as the entrance hall had been in order to make it comfortable for a creature of his size. A Federation flag hung on the wall directly behind his massive desk.

     Strewn across his workspace were papers of various colors, sorted in a hasty attempt to try and organize, but it looked like nothing but a wasted effort. Off to the side was a dark file cabinet, tight shut, with screens that read their contents in Tantalog.

     Jackson was seated in a smaller armchair with their head still tilted toward the floor, their hands clasped in their lap. Their expression had remained tense and almost blank, leg pressed together. Their mind couldn't escape the echoes of the other agents' shrieking laughter directed at them. The feeling was new, unfamiliar, but one of the worst that they'd ever experienced. The sound wouldn't go away even though it wasn't actually there anymore.

 

     "You look extremely disappointed, Belmont. I understand. It has never been easy for me to announce that someone's been placed this way." Gantu said as he plopped into his own chair, leaning on it comfortably with one hand on his face. "I granted you permission to ask, so I will answer your questions. I brought you here to discuss these things in private, as we don't reveal the personal information of our agents to others."

 

     Jackson didn't respond. Briefly, Gantu's expression flickered; he sighed with resignation and broke his authoritative demeanor for just a moment, leaning forward on his desk, arms resting on the massive pile of papers that shuffled under his movements. His eyes shut and he drew another deep breath, waiting for any word from the newly recruited agent.

     When nothing came, he decided to try and make things a little more bearable.

 

     "I'll tell you why you were placed in OUT." His voice was less stern, almost understanding. "It's because your experience in combat is dated. By at least a thousand years. I have no doubt in my mind that where you're from, you'd be regarded as someone with extreme skill after what you showed me in your Fitness test. But absolutely no one in the Federation is going to be sent on a rescue or defense mission with just a sword. You have got to be out of your mind to believe I or any other authority would let someone in our ranks do that."

     Jackson wanted to flinch. With every word, it felt like an actual sword was being driven into their chest, inch by inch- deeper and deeper. Their eye clenched shut for only a moment in an attempt to withstand the massive strike to their confidence.

 

     "You have zero experience in handling firearms or Turian technology," Gantu continued. "You haven't ever touched a computer, and you or your species have not made contact with anyone within the Federation or its allies. Being put in OUT will be a great way to get you accustomed to what we do and what the culture here is like.

     "It is good, however, that you joined us. I see joining the Federation as a great opportunity, especially to newcomers. Perhaps you will be a catalyst of positive change to your planet's society and they can adopt some of the technology we use. Your people could learn new things. If not, well... you can walk away from this when you retire or resign, and have a unique experience among your kind."

 

     There was a pause. The Captain was trying to find the right words to say. Still, Jackson didn't move, doing their best to remain composed and keep it together. Gantu wasn't even sure if they were _breathing._

 

     "As for your results, you had nearly a perfect score on your written test, and scored so high in intelligence, critical thinking, and adaptability in your personality tests that it is almost beyond my imagining. But."

     Jackson finally looked up again. "But?"

 

     "There are other things we had to consider that will not leave the walls of my office. The results of your mental examination tell us that you are not suited for more intense missions. You are fit and have combat experience, but not in the context of using guns and other advanced weaponry. If I let you into one of my squads, I am absolutely sure that you'd have immense culture shock and shut down."

     Jackson's gaze went back to the floor. With his voice growing a little more firm again, Gantu made the message clear.

     "I'm sorry, Jackson. But you will not be seeing combat." A surprising address of their first name, probably to be a touch more personal and empathetic. It did nothing. "The Grand Councilwoman herself made sure that was certain once she saw your overall report. I had to _personally_ deliver it to her and seek her guidance because the Council and I were so divided on where to place you. Please understand that I didn't do this out of malice."

     "I understand, Captain. I'm sorry." Jackson murmured quietly, voice almost trembling.

     "You have nothing to apologize for. You've been respectful to everyone you've had to speak to since you've boarded this ship. Word does get around among Captains and Commanders. You do have what it takes to be here, and you have the attitude to go far. Let's hope you excel, and not the opposite."

 

     Jackson did appreciate the compliments, yet it still didn't manage to comfort them. The damage to their ego was going to be hard to shake off.

 

     "Let's get you to your post."

     Gantu stood up, sliding his seat back, resulting in a sudden _SNAP_. Jackson looked up slightly from their feet to see a broken wheel roll out from under the desk. Gantu let out a grunt as Jackson grabbed it and handed it over

     "You'd think as Captain they'd have considered me important enough to get me a new office chair by now. I filed that replacement request months ago."


	2. The New Agent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Whew! Two chapters already. Chapter 3 is in the works, and I'm actually pretty inspired to write after some encouraging and wonderful feedback from my beta readers! This chapter is where the good stuff starts.
> 
> As usual, R&R is totally welcome. Thanks for reading! <3

     "W-What do you mean I'm going to be a mentor? We're getting a new agent? In _our_  department?"

 

     Wendell Pleakley had always been proud of his career. The rest of the Federation saw the department he'd been placed in five years ago as a joke, but to him it was everything he could have ever hoped for. Unfortunately, it was difficult to describe his career, as the department changed names every year.

     He'd forgotten what it was more than two years ago, going from the Department of Protoxenology, to the Department of Terrestrial Studies... and now it was the Department of Outreach to Unknown Terrestrials, otherwise known as OUT. The acronym had been turned into a subject of ridicule among the more socially accepted departments.

 

     "Listen, Wendell... I know this is weird. We almost never get new agents. But we have, and this one was placed in Second Class."

     Walking next to him from the dormitories was the department head, Meeloo Krazefon. She was a decorated First Class department head with years of experience, and was on a first name basis with everyone in OUT. The department was so tiny that everyone knew each other personally. Meeloo wasn't much different. What made her unmistakable among other department heads was her pink fur and large dark eyes.

     "This is a big deal, and you're the only other First Class agent still here. One that hasn't resigned."  
  
     "But _why?"_ Pleakley asked, his voice shrill and almost panicked. "Why _me?_ Sure, sure, I'm First Class. Got there in under a year, and of course I'm absolutely over the moon about that... But I don't think I'm important enough to be a mentor. You know very well that nobody assigned here is enthusiastic about it, either!"

     "I know. But _you're_ enthusiastic about it," Meeloo said in a hushed tone as two agents outside their department passed by. "Believe it or not, others in our group think you've got a serious passion for your study on Ee-arth."

     Pleakley grimaced slightly. Nobody ever pronounced the planet's name right, but he'd given up on correcting them a long time ago.

 

     "Once we get you to start talking, it's almost impossible to stop you. If we've got a new agent on our hands, and they're upset about being here... they need a positive role model. I don't know anyone else more fitting for this than you."

     "That's... oddly flattering..." Pleakley's voice was much softer once he'd processed that information.

     He was lost in thought before Meeloo suddenly grasped his shoulders with her paws and brought him to a screeching halt. Pleakley's three legs almost dragged across the floor from it. When he looked back at her to ask why she'd done such a thing, her small ears were upright, and her eyes were wide.

     They'd reached the entrance to their department in the main hall, with none other than Captain Gantu standing nearby. Standing in front of him was a cyclops that neither of the OUT agents had ever seen before.

 

     "Ah, here they are." The Captain's voice came after he noticed the two approaching. The other cyclops turned and briefly showed their face, before turning away toward Gantu again.

     "Captain! You've come to personally escort our new agent to us? It's an honor." Meeloo gave him a respectful salute with a paw placed against her forehead. Pleakley did the same, the both of them smiling wide.

     "Always good to see a newcomer welcomed with open arms," Gantu replied, one hand suddenly shoving the other cyclops forward. Their eye went wide, stumbling before regaining their balance and standing upright, not pleased by being forcibly moved forward and having to face the others.

 

     "This is Agent Jackson Belmont." Gantu motioned to them. "They are Second Class and will be joining you in OUT. Agent Pleakley, you'll be mentoring Agent Belmont for the time being. I would stay longer, but I only came along to make sure Agent Belmont didn't get lost. I'll be leaving to take care of my own duties. Take care, and good luck, the three of you."

     "Of course, Captain!" Meeloo said cheerfully. "Thank you!"

     Gantu nodded before turning and marching down the hall, eventually disappearing from sight.

 

     If Jackson didn't feel like an outsider before, they certainly did now. Gantu had left them with complete strangers in the hall just outside the door to OUT. Even with instructions and digital maps on the walls, the entire ship was unfamiliar, as well as the people on it.

     "So!" Meeloo clapped her hands together. "I'd love to introduce myself, but I also have some important things to attend to. You know, paperwork and all that, since I'm the department head! I'm Meeloo. It's nice to have you on the team, Jackson!"

     She held out her arm with an open palm toward Jackson, who stared at her hand in confusion, before making direct eye contact. They were frowning. The intense stare made Meeloo slowly lower her arm, and Pleakley swallow nervously.

     Nothing felt more awkward than that moment.  
  
     "Um... Okay... You don't do handshakes. That's fine! Uhh. I'd better get going." She leaned down to whisper to Pleakley. "You can do this. Call me if anything gets out of hand."

     Before Pleakley could respond, Meeloo dashed through the door, which opened on its own with a whoosh. It closed only a second or two after, and now the hall was empty, leaving Pleakley completely alone with a much taller and much more intimidating cyclops.

 

     "Wait- Meeloo! _MEELOO!_ Come back! Ahh," Pleakley went to rush after her, but was met with the door slamming in his face.

     He sighed, tilting forward and putting his face in his hands. "This is beyond my pay grade..."

 

     "You're Agent Wendell?"

 

     Jackson finally spoke, and they were quieter than expected. Soft-spoken, almost feminine, but not quite. Pleakley turned to look back at them after noticing the familiar tremble in their voice: anxiety. "Captain Gantu holds you in high regard. He had good things to tell me about you."

     "He does- wait, he does?" The shorter cyclops sputtered for a moment. The use of his first name put him off, however, and it something he was quick to remedy. "Please, Agent Pleakley is fine. Meeloo insists we're on a first name basis, but contrary to popular belief, I don't use my first name as often as the others."

     "Oh. I'm sorry. Agent Pleakley, then."

     "Is it... is it alright for me to call you Jackson, or would you prefer Agent Belmont?"

     "Just Jackson is fine," They replied, a hand going up to scratch the side of their head. "All these formalities are weird. We don't do that as often where I'm from."

 _Poor thing,_ Pleakley thought. _But I've also got my work cut out for me._

 

     The conversation ended there, leaving them to visually get to know one another.

     While Jackson's skin was brown, Pleakley's was a light shade of yellow-green. He had no hair, but a single antenna on his head that Jackson couldn't help but notice. Just the same, Pleakley caught himself glancing up to Jackson's uneven horns, and the short but fluffy black hair between them that had been shaved down at the sides.

     While Pleakley had softer features, Jackson's were sharp. And compared to him, a noodle without bones, they were slim and athletic with broad shoulders. Pleakley briefly wondered if Gantu was  _sure_ this agent had been placed in the correct department. Why weren't they with a combat squad?

     What stood out to him most, though, was the color of Jackson's eye. Gold, a lot like the sun back on his home planet. It was strangely comforting. Jackson could see that while his actual eye and its pupil were large, Pleakley's iris- a periwinkle shade- was incredibly small in comparison.

 

     "...Tell me about yourself! Oh, come right this way. We'll get settled in. Tell me about yourself as we walk! You can do that, right?" Pleakley joked, offering a chuckle.

     When Jackson didn't laugh back, he frowned, before his palm hit his face with a sound slap.

     "Sorry. Right this way."

 

     "I'm sorry... I'm... I don't mean to be rude," Jackson offered suddenly as they walked through the door. "It's just... when I was placed... everyone... they laughed at me."

     Pleakley stopped abruptly and stood right in front of Jackson, who was forced to stop with him, their arms going up slightly in a defensive motion. When they realized there was no threat, they quickly relaxed.

 

     "They did WHAT? Oh, that's not good! That's terrible! Well, you'll _never_ have to worry about being treated like that with us. Our department is so small, so we all know each other. I imagine everyone is excited to meet you, you know. So, what planet are you from?"

     "Um," Jackson looked confused. "It... doesn't have a name. I don't think it does, anyway."

     Pleakley blinked owlishly, before shaking his head with a laugh. "Oh, don't worry about that, there's lots and LOTS of planets with just numbers and letters in their name. You can just point it out to me on a quadrant map."

     "I. Uh. I can't do that, either. I don't know where it is." Jackson looked mortified.

 _I probably look and sound as dumb as a rock to this guy,_ they thought.

     "Oh," Pleakley's voice dropped. "Oh, goodness. Well, uh, that's okay, too. That just means... you're probably the first of your planet to get here! I won't be surprised if it gets registered in the database soon enough." He motioned for Jackson to follow, and they walked down some steps toward their destination.

 

     "So if you can't tell me where your planet is on a map, why don't you tell me what was on it?" Pleakley was trying very hard to break the ice and make Jackson comfortable. A commendable effort, as he managed to get the other cyclops to talk.

     "I lived in a massive floating city. We call it Dis." Jackson replied as they walked together, looking around and taking in the scenery of OUT's entrance hall. "It's a beautiful place, and only my kind lived there. Well, until very recently. Just five years ago we opened the gates. They'd been closed so no one could get in, and no one could leave. Now people and cultures are mixing. I wanted to explore and try something new, so that's why I left home."

     "It floats? Fascinating," Pleakley listened intently. "How does it float?"

     "Huh?" Jackson felt their heart beat a little harder for a second. "Oh, uh. To be honest, I don't know." It was a lie- Jackson knew the answer, but it wouldn't go well to someone from a department of interplanetary scientists. "All I know is that it's been floating since before I was born, and it's all I really knew until I came here."

     "You must be really shocked by everything around here, then."

     "...Yeah."

     "It took me some getting used to, so you're not alone. Not even twenty minutes ago I was distraught over the idea of having to mentor someone, but... I think you'll fit right in! You're not as scary as your test results made you sound."

     "Scary-? ...Wait, _what?_ How many people have seen my test results?!" Jackson asked, voice rising slightly.

     "Just me, Meeloo, the Captain, the Council, and the Grand Councilwoman. It's confidential otherwise."

     "...I see."

     Jackson felt a little annoyed that more people had seen such private information, but luckily it was only a select few. The reason why was understandable. As for Pleakley, his enthusiasm and positive attitude were endearing. Jackson was gradually becoming more comfortable, and curious.

 

     They walked for a little while longer until they reached a set of large doors. Pleakley reached into one of the pockets of his uniform, pulling out a white card and dragging it across a metal piece near the door. A light blinked on the metal piece, and the doors opened quietly as he pocketed the item and led Jackson inside.

     "How are you feeling?" Pleakley asked, just to check on his new trainee.

     "Better. But I still need to learn about your technology. It's beyond my understanding."

     "We'll cross that galaxy when we get to it." Pleakley said reassuringly.

 _What a weird saying,_ Jackson thought.

 

     Through the doorway was a large circular room that must have been the department's main hub. They stood on an upper level with two sets of stairs leading downward, curved to fit the aesthetic of the rest of the room. A giant screen was in the very center on the back wall, with computers set up among the curved walls. The screen listed several names, and the top three caught Jackson's attention immediately:

_1\. KRAZEFON, MEELOO ARAI - DEPARTMENT HEAD, FIRST CLASS_

_2\. PLEAKLEY , WENDELL - FIRST CLASS_

_3\. BELMONT, JACKSON RIDLEY - SECOND CLASS_

 

     Both of them paused to glance up at the screen.

     "What's this?" Jackson asked, a clawed finger pointing at the display.

     "That's our roster. Every department has one on the main screen," Pleakley and Jackson descended the stairs as he explained. "It has our full names and rank for information purposes. OUT is very small, though- so our roster never changes."

     "And those computers around it?"

     "Those are what we use for our research. OUT is a scientific department, so our job is to study and research as much as possible. Every month we're required to present the research we've found to the Galactic Council and update them on current affairs."

     "Does everyone do that?" Jackson asked, intrigued.

     "You're asking a lot of questions! That's good. But yes, everyone. Every department. Obviously the non-science departments give status reports and mission updates. We don't... really go on missions. At least, we've never had to, since OUT has never made contact with any of the planets we focus on..."

     "Why?" Jackson pressed for more information.

     Pleakley seemed surprised, but eager to continue.

     "You know how your planet's never really made contact with us? That's what we study. We think it's important to watch other planets in case of important discoveries. We also strive to preserve life and ecosystems found nowhere else. Like Earth, for instance-"

 

     "Is there a library?"

     That question made Pleakley turn to Jackson, eyebrow going up. "Huh?"

     "I said, 'is there a library?' You know, with books," Jackson looked down at him, making the motion of a book opening with their hands, then pressed a hand to their face, eye shut. "Please don't tell me you guys put _everything_ on screens..."

     "OH!" Pleakley perked up, both hands waving in a frantic motion to calm Jackson down. "No, no, we still use paper. I mean, some things are available digitally, but the library has both. I'll take you there if you want."

     "...And I can just read as many books as I want?" Jackson's eye was open again, and their hand slightly lowered from their face.

     "Of course!" Pleakley gave them an incredulous stare, gaping slightly. "What makes you think you wouldn't be able to?"

 

     For the first time since they'd arrived, Jackson's lips slowly curved into a smile. Their sharp and high cheekbones on their angled face seemed to move up as the corners of their mouth did. Pleakley could see a flicker of light in their eye, one that he was all too familiar with.

     Excitement.

     "I need you to take me there."


	3. Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More character building! However, just to be safe, here's a brief warning that one of the characters suffers a panic attack. It's very minor, though, and everyone is okay!  
> Enjoy the chapter! I've had a lot of writing momentum and will work on Chapter 4 ASAP. Leave your kudos and comments below! ♥

     Once Pleakley had shown Jackson the library, their mood had changed so drastically it was like they had become a different person.

     The room itself was massive. There were hundreds- no, _thousands_ of books to choose from, and Jackson was ecstatic. Shelf after shelf lined the walls, at least twice Jackson's height, and that was just one section of the place. In the back were numerous tables for computers and research, even separate rooms with more chairs and tables. What they were for, Jackson didn't know, but everything was wonderful to take in.

     Everything was so orderly and neat. Jackson stared in awe when they entered the room. They grinned widely at the sight, and when Pleakley looked up to them, he was briefly made aware of their razor-sharp teeth. He felt mildly unnerved as his new companion dashed off to explore and see what else the archive had to offer.

     The excitement on Jackson's face was all too obvious, eye bright with interest. Every now and then, a hand reached out as they swiped a book from the shelf. They tucked any books they grabbed under their arm if the subject matter caught their interest. For Jackson, a library was a familiar place, comfortable enough so that the tension and anxiety melted away; that was evident as they combed through the books.

     Pleakley followed close behind, mostly in silence, until Jackson bombarded him with questions. For obvious reasons, the two maintained an inside voice. And, enthusiastic as he was, happy to see Jackson so comfortable and excited, he was all too happy to answer.

 

     It took two hours to get the taller cyclops to stop rushing through aisles and looking at shelves. By the time they exited the library, the both of them carried a sizable amount of books, as Jackson couldn't really keep up with them all on their own. Pleakley held two, while Jackson had four, varying in size, stacked on top of one another and held in their hands.

 

     "Hey!" A familiar voice called from nearby, and the pair turned to see Meeloo waving at them both. "I was looking for you two. Where the heck have you been?"

     "The library," Pleakley responded. He motioned to Jackson, who was beaming. "Jackson wanted to see it. As soon as I told them about it, they insisted."

     "Well, that's good! And it looks like you've already got some research material! You're off to a good start, Jackson. I knew you'd fit in with us just fine."

     "Thank you," Jackson responded. "I have no clue how your computers work, but at least you have books. But, um- I noticed something. You really don't have quills and inks anywhere. Why is that?"

 

     The question was met with silence. Jackson glanced between Pleakley and Meeloo with confusion.

     "Why in the seven hells are you both looking at me like that?"

     "Quills and inks? _Quills and inks?_ Jackson... You're serious, aren't you?" Meeloo stared at them as if they'd sprouted a second head.

     "You don't have pens? Notebooks?" Pleakley couldn't believe it. What kind of planet didn't have pens?

     "What's a pen?" Jackson asked back, making Meeloo jump in shock. "We just use quills and dip them in inks on parchment, or write on paper and bind them manually in books."

     The more Jackson said, the more incredulous both First Class agents looked.

     "Oh my god," Meeloo held her hands to her curved chest. "Sweet, _sweet_ summer child. Jackson, you weren't kidding when you said you didn't know anything about technology."

     "No, I wasn't!" Jackson sighed, ears fanning outward and slumping a bit as they stood. "I know, I probably seem really dumb compared to you guys. But I-"

     "Hold it," Meeloo grabbed Jackson by the arm and tugged them so they were forced to turn. At this, Jackson's eye went wider, and their ears went back up. Meeloo pointed a finger sharply toward Jackson's face- they could see a tiny burgundy pawpad, the digit  tipped with a white claw. Pleakley stepped back a bit, also a bit surprised by this. He'd never seen Meeloo look or sound so stern before.

 

     "Listen to me, Jackson. I saw your test results. You are _not_ dumb. You are one of the smartest agents this Federation has seen, and there are different types of intelligence. Your planet wasn't exposed to this technology. That's not your fault. You can learn how to use it and how to make what you do here shine. Everyone else here has. We'll teach you everything we need to know. With Wendell and I helping you, you'll be hitting keys and getting into the Federation's search engines in no time."

     "That's right," Pleakley chimed in. He added a book he was holding to Jackson's pile. "We've had people who didn't know what they were doing come in here before. Sure, they resigned- but they still left learning something new."

 

     Moved by their encouragement, Jackson shut their eye and tilted their head forward.

     "I... Thank you. I really needed to hear that. I just felt a little stupid being around all of these computers, with their screens hurting my eye and having no idea how they work."

     "Today's your first day. We don't expect you to be an expert," Meeloo's voice was back to its usual softness now, and she patted Jackson's shoulder. "Have you been shown your personal quarters yet? You'll get a nice one considering you're Second Class!"

     "No, but I'd love to see. Is that where they took all of my stuff that I brought with me when I first got here?" Jackson didn't notice as Pleakley slipped the other book he was holding on top of their stack.

     "Yes. Don't worry, it's all safe. Why don't the three of us go there and check it out?"

 

     The dormitories were in a separate hall that were also divided by department. An elevator led to separate floors, and when Meeloo led them inside one, Jackson could see that the buttons on the wall were numbered all the way up to 25. Meeloo pressed 25, and the room suddenly jolted. This surprised Jackson so much that they dropped their books, which landed on the floor with solid thuds. Everything suddenly felt like it was moving, and their stomach dropped.

     "Gods above!" They exclaimed, grasping onto the handrail for support, knees bent. "What's happening?!"

     Meeloo and Pleakley looked to Jackson worriedly, before rushing to pick up the books. How were they so still and not freaking out?

     "It's okay, Jackson! It's just the elevator moving up with electricity and big wires. It's safe." Pleakley was at their side, letting Meeloo take care of the dropped books. She was checking them for any bent pages, now.

 

     He didn't expect Jackson's hands to reach out and grab both of his. Their grip was tight, knuckles almost losing their color. Pleakley was taken aback and stared at their twined fingers for a moment. They had five, tipped with sharp black claws, and his three noodly fingers barely managed to grab on to Jackson's wider hands. When he looked up at their face, he could see that Jackson was trying to remain calm, eye clenched shut and brow furrowed tightly. Their lips were pressed together firmly. Their body was trembling.

     "I... I hate small spaces," Jackson's voice wavered, almost tearful.

     "Okay, okay. Don't panic. Oh goodness, _please_ don't panic," Pleakley said back quietly. If Jackson panicked, so would he. It wouldn't end well. "Take a deep breath."

     Jackson sucked in air, their flat chest puffing out from how much they took in. Pleakley waited five seconds.

     "Now let it go," He said gently.

     Jackson obliged, exhaling loudly before standing upright a little more.

     "That's it! Keep doing that. We're almost there."

     Jackson repeated the breathing motions, and the room finally came to a halt.

 

     The doors opened, and Jackson rushed out, almost toppling over two other agents that had been waiting for the elevator to arrive. They both shouted in surprise, with Pleakley rushing after Jackson and Meeloo following close behind. She quickly uttered apologies to the two agents Jackson had just barreled through.

     "Jackson! Oh my god. Are you alright?" She asked, once she'd caught up with the others. The books were collected in her hands.

     "That was the worst thing," Jackson stood upright while rubbing their own arms. "I have ever experienced! Why don't any of you use teleportation? Even that is less nauseating than an entire room moving!"

     Pleakley and Meeloo exchanged glances.

     "What? I'm right, you know!" Jackson was clutching to themselves as if they'd had a near-death experience.

     "We... don't use teleportation," Meeloo began. "That's even more dangerous than an elevator. Molecular breakdown has such huge risks-"

     "Don't even try to explain it. You'll make Jackson's brain fry and they've been through enough today," Pleakley cut her off. "Let's get them to their dorm."

     "Right, right." Meeloo sighed, the ears on the top of her head drooped downward. "Your room is right next to mine and Wendell's, so if you get lost, you at least know you're right next to us."

     "Thank the gods," Jackson said bitterly, before following them down the hall.

 

     At the very back, the dormitory hall was quiet. OUT was on its own with only twenty rooms occupied. Jackson noticed that the floor was a bright blue with flecks of yellow, perhaps to mimic the illusion of stars in space. Like the rest of the ship, the walls were chrome. The three agents reached a room at the very end of the hall, and Meeloo used her head to motion to it as her hands were full.

     "This is my dorm," She said, before looking to the one directly left of it. "And that one is Wendell's. Yours is after his."

     Meeloo put the books down on the floor before reaching into the pocket of her uniform. She offered Jackson a white card, the same one they'd seen Pleakley use to open the doors to OUT's main hub. It was thick and almost flexible, made of a weird and firm material Jackson had never felt. They almost wanted to drag their claws across its surface to see if it was satisfying to do so.

     "This is your card key. You cannot lose it. It's pretty much what allows you to get around the ship. It's already programmed for you, so it'll let you into OUT, your dorm, and other places you'll need to reach."

     Meeloo moved to Jackson's door and moved the card key across a metal piece identical to one on OUT's door. The light on it turned green, and the doors slowly slid open.

 

     Jackson was hesitant, but with a gentle push on their back from Meeloo's paw, they moved forward through the doorway.

     They'd find that their dorm was not just one single room, but a home away from home. It was nothing like the type of home Jackson was accustomed to, but the thought counted nonetheless. Entering the room they could see that there was a living area, with a table in the center and a large couch and armchair surrounding it. A black box with a screen was mounted on the wall in front of the seats. An empty shelf sat against the other wall.

     Directly next to the living area was the kitchen, separated by a wall and tile floors. Jackson only recognized it from being told about it before. There was another box on the counter, this time with a little window on it. Sat near it was a strange contraption with a glass pot. A large white box with two doors was nearby standing on its own, and there were plenty of cabinets. A little basket with a white bag had been placed near the big white box.

 

     "Looks nice, doesn't it? It's like your own apartment! Only First and Second Class agents get these," Meeloo chirped, grabbing the books again and moving to the living area. She placed them neatly on the wooden table. "You're lucky, Jackson- Third Class gets a tiny bedroom with a kitchen. Fourth and Fifth just get a tiny room with a desk and a bed that feels like you're sleeping on a rock."

     "Wow," Jackson breathed out, running a hand across the spotless countertops in the kitchen. "What about our beds?"

     "Like a cloud." Pleakley said with a smile. He'd already seated himself on the couch, and Meeloo sat beside him after she'd placed the books down. "Why don't you go see your bedroom?"

     "Okay. Uh, be right back." Jackson slipped out of the kitchen and down the tiny hallway that led to the bedroom door. There was no handle, and the tall cyclops looked stumped for a moment before moving closer. The door suddenly slid open on its own, making Jackson jump.

     Meeloo laughed as she watched from the couch. "It's automatic! There's a sensor in the floor. When you step on it, the door will open for you. But you can lock it from the inside!"

     "Huh," Jackson was already poking their head into the bedroom. "Neat."

 

     The first thing that caught Jackson's eye was the desk. A computer sat on it, among a few other things- Jackson couldn't decipher what they were. The chair pushed underneath the desk looked pretty comfortable. The bed was large enough for two people at the very least, with blue and gold sheets and four pillows arranged neatly against the headboard.

     An open closet sat in the very rear of the room with a considerable amount of space. Jackson's belongings had been placed inside, several large bags and rolled up items stored inside, making Jackson's face brighten.

     "It's here! My stuff! It's all here!"

     The cheerful shout made both Pleakley and Meeloo smile. While Jackson rummaged about in their bedroom, they sat and waited.

 

     "Do you want some coffee?" Pleakley asked, glancing to the coffee pot that sat on Jackson's kitchen counter.

     "Nah," Meeloo politely declined. "I already got an iced one from the café about an hour ago. I needed it after staying up from filling out the paperwork I got last night. So, what do you think? You and Jackson seem to be getting along really well."

     "They're nice." Pleakley said, hands folded in his lap. He was short enough so that his three legs didn't touch the floor while he sat on the couch. "I was worried they'd be a little more... what's the word..." His voice trailed off.

     "Aggressive? Quick-tempered?" Meeloo tried to finish the sentence.

     "Both of those," Pleakley confessed. "I mean, look at them. They look strong enough to snap us both in half!"

     "I know. I couldn't believe those test results... And to end up here... Well, I know why."

     Meeloo leaned back against the couch, arms behind her head. Pleakley glanced to her, leaning on the arm of the couch, one hand on his cheek.

     "Why is that?"

     "Well, you saw the combat results, right? Exempt."

     "Of course."

     "When Captain Gantu asked them to provide a demonstration of their combat skills during the fitness test, Jackson asked for a sword."

     "What?" Pleakley moved to the edge of his seat, staring at Meeloo in disbelief.

     "Uh-huh." Meeloo continued. "When he said he didn't have one, Jackson asked for a staff. Gantu ended up exempting them from the combat test. They asked for a damn sword, Wendell. When's the last time you've ever heard of that?"

     "Never! No wonder they don't know a thing about computers. Their planet hasn't even moved past medieval weaponry!"

     "Do you think," Meeloo mused. "That if not for Jackson being here, we could have discovered their planet and ended up studying and observing from afar? Never making contact... Just sitting in our offices, viewing the planet from the scope or sending in satellites... Just like you do with Ee-arth."

 

     Pleakley stared at Meeloo, then at the rug. He thought about it, and she was right. It was true. They'd never be able to make contact with the denizens of Earth. Earthlings were very narrow-minded, and feared the unknown. They'd only scratched the surface of their capability with technology despite the planet being rich with resources. The oceans hadn't even been fully explored by the people who lived there. The Federation could do that in a matter of days.

     It could have been the same exact situation with Jackson's planet, had the enigmatic individual never showed up. If their planet was so devoid of technology, how did they even get here, anyway?

 

     "I'm glad Jackson's here. Now that I've met a person from a planet like that- I mean, it really puts things into perspective," Pleakley said quietly. "These people live their normal lives and we just spy on them and talk about how outdated or behind they are. What we've forgotten is some places are just fine that way."

     Meeloo's eyes moved from the wall to her coworker.

     "Yeah... you're right. It kind of makes us look like snobs, when you put it that way. But the difference between us and other scientists is that we want to study them to learn about them, and help those planets if they're in need of our assistance."  
"I know," Pleakley leaned back with a sigh, staring at the ceiling.

 

     He stopped and his expression changed from thoughtful mourning to confusion as he heard something from Jackson's bedroom.

     "Do you hear that?"

     "Hear what?" Meeloo didn't know what he was talking about, until she heard it too- something that sounded like a rumble, or growl. It was faint, as Jackson's door had been shut since they vanished.

     Exchanging glances, Pleakley and Meeloo stood without a word and moved together to the door of Jackson's room. After stepping over the sensor under the floor, the door opened.

 

     "Jackson? Are you okay? Did you-"

     Pleakley stepped into the bedroom first, then stopped abruptly. Meeloo peeked over his shoulder, before stifling a laugh behind him.

     Jackson was perfectly fine, curled up on their bed, eye shut and fast asleep.

     What they heard had been snoring.


	4. How Did You Get Here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Four chapters, and I've hit 10,000 words! I honestly didn't expect to get this far and want to keep going, and this is where I usually stop and give up. I'm determined not to do that this time around, however, and have plans in mind for chapter 5.
> 
> Please forgive me if the pacing on this story is a little weird. Again, this is a "plan as I go" sort of thing with a very basic outline and list of ideas, and the point for me while doing all of this was to have fun and I'm focusing on that. I hope anyone reading this fic is enjoying it like I am! Feel free to offer comments/critique if you spot anything strange or feel like the text could be better. I have every chapter read and looked over before posting, but humans aren't perfect and we all miss things.
> 
> Thanks for your comments/kudos so far!! ♥
> 
> (Also, if you haven't noticed, my story lacks indents. I use the rich text editor and I'm still trying to figure things out. Please be patient with me T_T )

_Dis, the shining city in the sky, would always be known as the comfort of home. It was an empire built on a circular floating island, and in the very center was the largest building in it: the palace. It was a shining white and gold; the towers reached into the clouds, piercing them with their pointed peaks. The path to the palace was a glistening bridge of crystal to cross an enormous lake. Docks sat closest to the palace gates on the other side. Lilypads and lotus flowers floated aimlessly across the water's surface without a single ripple to be seen._

_Jackson untied a rope from a pole on the crystalline docks, unraveling the knot that held it together with ease. It was the only thing holding the boat they were standing in to stay put, but once they sat down, it slowly began to float away. Seated on the opposite side was a woman that looked much like Jackson, though her hair was long and white. The resemblance that she had to Jackson, or perhaps the other way around, was striking. Her eye was shut as she sat quietly with her hands folded in her lap, wearing intricately detailed robes in white and gold, matching the palace itself. Runes could be seen on the trim, and placed on her head was a crown that mimicked the golden halo of the sun's rays, placed neatly among her uneven horns. Her chestnut skin seemed flawless in the light._

 

_"Why do you want to leave?"_

_Her voice was gentle. Her presence itself could embrace Jackson from behind if it wanted, putting them at ease._

_"I want to see the world." Jackson had reached for the oar sitting in the boat, using it to push them away from the docks and further toward the lake's center. The once still water was now disturbed by ripples created in the moving boat's wake._

_Her eye slowly opened to stare at her child, whose back was turned to her. Her golden iris and snow-colored hair glimmered in the sun. "Ever since you were little, you never were comfortable just staying in one place, or doing one thing. Aren't you scared? Worried? You've no clue what's out there."_

_"Of course I'm scared," Jackson admitted, afraid to look their mother in the eye. They continued to stare at the water, pushing the oar through it as they drifted along. "And I have no doubt that it's dangerous, but that's the thrill of it. I can defend myself. I've got years of training and practice behind me. I know I'll be okay."_

_"Sit down and look at me, Jackson. You know you don't need to move the boat yourself."_

_Jackson's movements of the oar stopped, and they sighed with resignation before turning and sitting down._

 

_"Mother-" Jackson began, but their mother's hands moved to their face, their protests quieted by a kiss to their forehead. Jackson shut their eye tightly, their lips pressed in a thin line. Normally, their mother's warmth could fight off anything. Fear, tension, and anxiety melted away under her power, but for the first time, today was different._

_"Jackson, whatever you decide, I will always support your decisions. There's no place for me to say a word unless the choices you make are dangerous or harmful. I've always been afraid of this day- the day you'd decide to leave home. A mother bird always fears an empty nest. That was one of the reasons I was so scared to open the gates."_

_"I'm going to miss you every day," Jackson confessed. "But you saw it, too, didn't you? That strange thing that fell from the sky? It was higher than Dis. And it was nothing like an airship. I saw it from the top of the highest tower. I wasn't the only one, was I?" Things are changing ever since we opened the gates."_

_"I saw it too," Their mother reassured them with a gentle stroke of their hair. "We all saw it, I'm sure. There's something about it- something I cannot put my finger on. It is nothing like the methods of travel we use. No teleportation, no portals, nothing of the likes I've ever seen, and I've lived for many years."_

_"If we don't know what it is, then I want to find out. I will find out. I'll do whatever it takes. I want to know what's out there. I want to travel and see everything I can." Jackson glanced toward the water longingly, seeing their reflection vanish as ripples formed from the boat drifting along. "And then, when I'm finished- and I finally come home- maybe I'll feel like I've done something in my life. Something worthwhile."_

 

_After that, the two were silent for only a moment._

_"Jackson," She whispered tearfully. "You_ have _done something worthwhile. You're gifted in everything that you do and you earned the marks on your body and the skills you possess. I couldn't be more proud that you are my child. I feel that you belong here with us, but I know I can't stop you from going. I would never forbid you from following your heart. But promise me- promise me you'll take this with you, and no matter where you go, protect it and keep it on your person. That way I know... as long as it's with you, you're safe."_

_She opened Jackson's palms, before placing something smooth and long in their hands, before clasping their fingers shut. Jackson looked up, and their eyes met._

_"I promise."_

* * *

 

     Jackson's eye opened slowly as they came to consciousness, blinking several times. Once the grasp of sleep paralysis had worn off, the cyclops sat upright, before their hands frantically roamed all over their body- something pulsed from beneath their uniform shirt against the bare skin of their flat chest. Digging into the turtleneck collar, their hand grasped onto a thin black cord, yanking out whatever hung from it. It sat in their palm, the cord still around their neck.  
The crystal that Jackson's mother had given them was a deep purple, barely translucent, and was emitting a soft glow. Every now and then it pulsed at the pace of one breathing, the light brightening before it faded into nothing, and reappeared again. It barely vibrated in Jackson's palm, making them close their fingers around the item tightly.

     "Mom..." Jackson leaned forward and pressed their closed fist to their brow, as if being close to the crystal would bring them closer to home. "I don't know if you can hear me, but if you can... I miss you more than anything. But I'm okay. I'm safe. And I promise I'll come home when I'm ready."

 

     Climbing out of bed, realization suddenly struck the cyclops' mind.

     "Oh, hell! Wendell and Meeloo!" Jackson made a beeline for the bedroom door, which opened quickly enough for them to pass through without colliding into it. Rushing into the living room, their footsteps thumped on the floor.

     "Guys! I'm awake! Sorry I-"

 

     Silence. Jackson saw that the living room was empty, with soft impressions left on the cushions from the other two agents sitting on it. How long had it been? How long had they been asleep?

     There was something on the table that grabbed Jackson's attention, however, and they were quick to investigate. A piece of parchment- no, paper. It was paper here, at least according to the others. It was folded neatly in a little square two times, almost so precise that Jackson didn't want to ruin it. But they did, hastily opening the folds, to find neat lettering written and left behind.

 

_Jackson,_

_You fell asleep, so Meeloo and I stayed for a bit before we decided to head out. I came back and left you some food in your perishables preservation device, just in case you got hungry. It's just a sandwich. Didn't cost me much at all, so don't worry about it._  
      _In case you somehow don't read this and AREN'T conscious somehow, I'll come to wake you up at 8:00. Just look on your wall. There's a little box with bright green numbers on it._

_I'll see you next shift at OUT!_

_\- W. Pleakley_

_P.S.: Good work on your first day. It was great meeting you! Sorry for all those little bumps and obstacles like the elevator. I think you'll do just fine once you get used to things. See you soon!_

 

     Jackson stared at the paper after reading it. His handwriting was so... clean. Pleakley had given Jackson the impression that he was some sort of perfectionist, a quality that Jackson shared- the only difference was that he had his life together more than they did. Even his handwriting radiated his preference for wanting things to be in order. They folded up the note as carefully as it had been done before, pocketing it.

     But what the world was a perishables preservation device?

     Jackson glanced to the sectioned off area of their home that was the kitchen, catching sight of another piece of paper, this time sticking to the big white box that was placed at the very edge of the kitchen's boundary. Sliding over to it, Jackson read the note's contents:

_Open me!_

     So this was the perishables preservation device. Jackson felt a little relief, thankful for the guidance. They grasped onto the tall, thin handle and pulled at the door, which opened quite easily without much exertion. Once the door was ajar, Jackson was nearly blinded by bright light, squinting. Inside, sitting at the front end of the higher shelf, was something wrapped in a waxy-looking paper. Jackson grabbed it, shutting the door and carefully using their hands to rip the paper away.

 

     It was cold, but they instantly recognized it as food. Green vegetables and meat, placed between two round pieces of bread- this would do just fine. Lifting the sandwich up and close to their horns, Jackson noted the scent. Pork? No, beef. Perhaps chicken? Wait a second, what even was this meat? And where could they get more of it?

     Jackson took a bite of the sandwich, satisfied with the taste. As they chewed they looked at the wall to find the clock that Pleakley had mentioned, to see if they matched the numbers- but they didn't. Instead there was a seven, not an eight. How long would they have to wait before-

 

 _Wrrrsh._ The front doors slid open with its signature whirring sound, and much softer and smaller footsteps were audible from the entrance. It was sudden enough and so unexpected that Jackson nearly jumped out of their skin, grasping the sandwich for dear life despite their fear. No way in hell they'd let themselves lose their food. They stood still in the kitchen, mouth still full, as Pleakley turned the corner.

 

     "Oh!"

     He jumped much like Jackson had done only seconds ago, grasping his chest with a hand. He recovered from the initial shock with a deep breath.

     "Jackson! Oh good, you're awake. I didn't want to be the one to drag you out of bed... Did you sleep well?"

     "Mrrghhrrph," Jackson responded, unable to speak a coherent sentence with a stuffed mouth. Still, the tone was somehow decipherable as a greeting. When Pleakley gave them a puzzled stare, the brown cyclops swallowed, puffing and standing upright a little more. "Yes, I slept fine. It was freezing, so I don't know how I did. Getting here wore me out enough I guess."

     "Cold? I should have told you about the temperature settings. I'll show you today."

     "Great." Jackson took another bite of food.

     "...Is the sandwich okay?" Pleakley's tone held a hint of worry when he asked.

     "Perfect, actually. What is it?" Jackson looked at him curiously.

     "Turian pork with some vegetables from one of the farming planets. I asked for no condiments, though. I didn't know what you liked."

     "Thank you. It's delicious." Jackson's cheeks felt a little warmer knowing he'd gone out of his way to do such a kind gesture. "What are our plans for today?"

     "Well, OUT is off today. I forgot it's Sunday, so we can do anything we want."

 

 _Anything we want._ The words echoed in Jackson's head, and their long ears went upright. They didn't expect Pleakley to notice, let alone say anything about it.

     "What, have you been waiting for a break?" He quipped, chuckling and passing Jackson, venturing into the kitchen. "I know you don't know your way around, so we can stick together if you like."

     "I..." Jackson felt their face grow warm again. "I, I would love that, actually!"

 

     When Pleakley glanced up at them, he looked surprised by their enthusiasm. He was standing in front of the weird contraption with the glass pot Jackson had seen, holding a scoop filled with brown powder. "Oh, good! Then what do you want to do?"

     "...Could we get more food?" Jackson asked shyly. "I'm still hungry."

     "I don't see why not. There's a diner in this galaxy that the Federation ship is currently stationed in."

     "Perfect! I'm so hungry, I could-"

     "Wait a second. Don't you even have money?"

     "...M-Money?" Jackson repeated the word.

     "To _buy_ food?" Pleakley leaned forward, giving them an inquisitive look. He'd put the scoop back into the weird device he was working, and now dark liquid was pouring into the pot. It was so hot that Jackson saw it steaming from where they stood.

     "Like, gold coins? No? I... No," Jackson confessed. "I don't have any money."

 

     Pleakley took a slow, deep breath, shutting his eye. "Oh, boy."

     "What?" Jackson felt their heart begin to pound in their chest.

     "You really came here with nothing? Not a single Credit to your name?"

     Jackson shook their head.

     "Alright. That's- that's _something,"_ Pleakley actually walked away, toward the cupboards, to process this information. How in the world had Jackson managed to get on this ship, let alone even get _in_ to the Galactic Federation's ranks? Their planet had no technology, different currency (if they had currency at _all)_ , and here they were, hungry and wanting more food. Somehow they'd gotten here without all of the necessary means.

     A rumbling growl that sounded like something being tossed came from Jackson. Pleakley could tell it was their stomach. He ignored it for now.

 

     "Jackson," He said quietly, his back turned to the other cyclops. "Can I ask how you managed to get here?"

     "A ship," Jackson answered. Their tone was sincere. "I made it to another planet, and some people were in line trying to enlist for the Federation. They said there was good pay and benefits, whatever that last part means."

 _Oh my god,_ Pleakley thought, horrified. _They don't know. They really DON'T know. They don't know a thing._

     "And how," He pressed, "Did you even get on that planet?"

     Jackson glanced sideways.

     When there was no answer, Pleakley turned around and reached for the glass pot. "Well?"

     "You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Jackson said firmly, now tense. Their arms had gone around themselves, their stance withdraw. "You'd say I was joking or lying."

     "What- why would I think that?" Pleakley sputtered. His grip on the handle of the carafe became tighter.

     "I just know." Jackson was now quiet. Guarded. Almost like a transparent wall had shot up between the two of them.

     "You're kidding!" Pleakley's voice rose with frustration. "You get to another planet from your own- NO technology, NO connection to the Federation, none whatsoever... You get in line to enlist in the Federation on this other planet and you get in despite using combat techniques dated maybe thousands of years old in Turian history, and that of other planets... And you can't tell me how you got here because you think I won't _believe_ you? Jackson, I can hardly believe you're STANDING here from what you've told me!"

     "Please," Jackson's ears were going back. "Don't yell."

     "I just want to know the answer! _How?_ How did you get in? How did you get about without any Credits? Without knowing where to go?" Their request was ignored, Pleakley becoming frantic. Nothing was adding up. He was so confused- and Jackson was just so strange. Still, he wanted answers. He wanted to _know._

     "I can't tell you!" Jackson broke and shouted back, hands folding, fists at their side. Pleakley almost flinched, shoulders going back a bit. But he relaxed, determined to get the information he was looking for.

     "Yes, you can. You can tell me anything," His voice went calmer, now that he'd processed Jackson's request not to yell. "Why won't you tell me? Are you afraid?"

     "No! I'm not afraid, I just- I just can't, okay? I got in here without breaking any rules. Why does it even matter?!"

     "Because what you're telling me doesn't make any _sense,_ Jackson. How did you get off your home planet?"

 

     He reached forward to comfort the other cyclops, and Jackson immediately drew back, putting space between them. Their arms went up defensively. One palm was open and facing him, while the other was drawn toward Jackson's chest. They took a deep breath, before lowering the stance.

     "Okay," Jackson's voice wavered, and Pleakley felt his body straighten and perk. "I'll tell you. But you have to promise me you won't tell _anybody_ else."

     "Jackson, I-"

     "Promise!" Jackson loomed over him, pointing a finger toward his chest. "You HAVE to promise!"

     Pleakley's own arms went up, his eye wide with fear as he stared up at Jackson. It was the first time they had shown signs of any aggression.

 

     An oddly comforting feeling surrounded him as Jackson backed away a bit, and took both of his hands in theirs. It made his body relax, much less tense- he could even feel his face growing a little hotter.

     "I'm sorry," Jackson's voice was back to its usual gentle tone, and Pleakley found himself liking it more than usual. "Let's sit down. It's a long story."

     "Okay. Alright. And you promise you're telling me the truth?"

     "If you promise to keep it all a secret, then yes." Jackson looked directly into his eye, but it wasn't an intense look or glare. They were  _pleading._

     Pleakley mulled it over before he grasped onto Jackson's hands a little tighter. He had to be prepared for what he was about to hear, but he knew he wasn't. Not with someone as strange- as _interesting_ \- as Jackson.

     "If it means that much to you, then okay. I promise."


	5. From Dis to Danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pumped out 5k words for this chapter, so enjoy! I'm on a creative roll with this and I hope it continues. This is a flashback, and I've put in a character I originally was going to leave out, but loved him too much to do so. Now he plays a pretty important role in Jackson's story here. Enjoy ;)
> 
> Oh, and a word of caution for this chapter: Bit of blood from injuries mentioned here, but it's nothing extreme.

_From the top of the highest tower in Dis, Jackson watched as something fell from the sky. It brought black smoke in its wake, the smog trailing behind it as the object sped toward the floating city like a meteor. They stood still in horror and heard the screams and shrieks of terror from their people below, who only assumed the worst. If it struck Dis, the damage that it could cause would be catastrophic. Alarmed, Jackson slipped from the roof and rushed down spiral steps at top speed to reach the palace's ground floor. Surely their mother would call them down to talk about this with the rest of their siblings._

_Much to everyone's relief, it had missed, crashing into the earth. The event had set everyone on edge. Dis was already full of refugees that escaped during a massive exodus years ago- Jackson hadn't been born then, but they understood the fear and anxiety that many of the people alive before them possessed. Gods forbid something happened to rip away the freedom and peace they'd worked so hard and sacrificed much to obtain. Opening the gates and allowing foreigners had caused much unrest already._

_Jackson's mother, father, and seven siblings had warned them of the possible dangers below many times before, but that didn't bring the young cyclops any fear or caution. They were determined to investigate whatever had just made its way near their home. There were so many questions, and Jackson wanted nothing but answers. That evening, Jackson and their mother took a boat out in the lake outside the palace, and Jackson confessed their desire to see the world and investigate what fell from the sky. It had been a long time coming; this strange phenomenon was the catalyst for Jackson to carry out their dream._

 

_The exit of Dis was unconventional, with teleportation pads at the front of the city, leading to one that had been built below. Ruins surrounded the pad at ground level, not very massive in size. They were a testament to when the city was first lifted into the sky; the effort had not been done without error._

_A day after the crash of whatever came from the sky, Jackson made it to the bottom, wearing armored gear and a staff strapped to their back. The teleportation device hurling them down to the earth at top speed had almost made them dizzy from never using it before. The smoke was long gone by now- it had lasted several hours, but gradually vanished over time as the burning of whatever had landed was snuffed out somehow._

_Jackson had no clue what it was, but as they drew closer to the crash site, they could see that whatever had made its way there was a vehicle of some sort. It was large in size, though not massive. It was nothing like the airships that Jackson's own kind had built- it had taken years to create them and polish them enough to fly without issue. Still, they were imperfect. But even the broken and battered hull of this strange chromatic ship was smooth and barely contained any dents. The metal surface was dark, but colors danced across it like an opal's under the welcoming sun. The grass had grown long and brushed against Jackson's legs, but they paid no mind to it. They only stopped when they felt a crunch under the sole of their boot._

 

_Looking down, they inched back slightly, pulling their foot from where they'd stepped. Shards of something sharp and angular lied in the dirt. The grass here was showing signs of being burnt, with discarded pieces of metal lying about. This wasn't a meteor. This thing- this vehicle- had crashed, nearly colliding into Dis in the process. This could have been even worse than a meteor. Jackson moved closer now, a hand reaching for the lower half of the staff strapped to their back, should they need to wield it soon._

_Jackson did not sense the presence of another person, or creature- the world was quite diverse, and they didn't know what to expect from someone who managed to create a flying ship made of metal. Still, they drew closer, coming to the conclusion from the way the ship was angled that it had landed and rolled several times before coming to a stop on its side. The streaks of burned grass and rows of dirt were enough evidence. Toward the center of the hull, they spotted where the shards had come from. Glass, maybe? No, much stronger than glass. Something that could withstand travel without breaking._

_Something hung from the sharp ends of the broken dome that was once whole. Jackson couldn't reach it from the ground, and began climbing near the side, careful not to touch anything sharp. Traversing up this metal was no easy task, but they barely managed, reaching just the right height to peek into the hole that had formed from the crash in the glass dome. White cloth, shredded and torn, was what Jackson had seen hanging from the ends of the busted glass._

_Someone was inside, a creature Jackson had never seen before. They were stout and large, with a wide frame, and a large face to match. It was hard to read their features, however, as maroon blood was streaked across their face and right arm. Pitch black hair clung to the creature's face, some of it pooled among their shoulders. In front of them was a plate of several lights and buttons that had been long deactivated. Alarmed, the cyclops glanced around for any way to open the dome further- they saw nothing, wondering if the opening could be broken off or perhaps removed. The broken opening was large enough for Jackson to slip inside. Driving themselves forward, the cyclops hissed as they heard something tearing; but their feet hit metal, now curled in the remaining but intact arch of the glass dome._

_They looked back. Their cloak had been caught on the glass and shredded on the sharp ends. Relieved that it hadn't been them who was shredded to pieces, Jackson took it as a minor loss. They turned to stare at the unconscious creature, slowly removing a glove from one hand. A palm searched for any bare skin, finding a rip in clothing- a white coat of sorts, shredded near the chest. Some buttons had popped off, probably from the impact of the landing and trying to keep steady._

 

_To Jackson's relief, this person was still warm. A heartbeat pounded furiously underneath their hand. Taking a shuddering breath, the tips of the cyclops' fingers began to glow, drawing some sort of white energy from the skin. Narrowing their eye, Jackson felt strange words and thoughts pour into their mind, indecipherable at first. The language was guttural and deep, sounds Jackson had never heard before. As moments passed, however, the words became coherent, and the glow ebbed away from their fingers._

_Out of nowhere, something large and strong grabbed Jackson's wrist, hard. They let out a cry as they were suddenly slammed against the shattered glass, winded and gasping for breath. Their eye opened and they let out a terrified sound as they saw the sharp end of the jagged wreckage lay only inches from their eye._

_"Who are you?" A deep voice came from behind them. "What are you doing in my ship?"_

_"Ow!" Jackson cried out, their arm now twisted behind their back. The other went to clasp at something to stay upright, but found that their other wrist had been grabbed, too. "S-Stop, please!"_

_"Will be saying it again, and you will give me answer. Who are you?" Hot breath ran down the back of Jackson's neck, making the hairs on it stand on end._

_"Y-You crashed- near my city- I came to investigate, to help-" Jackson managed to breathe out, before struggling in the now-conscious creature's grip._

 

_To their surprise, they were let go. Jackson slid forward and hit the ground, breathing deeply as they landed on all fours._

_"Wait," The voice came from behind them again. It was rich with some sort of accent- this wasn't their first language. "You are speaking Tantalog."_

_"Of course I am!" Jackson turned over, staring up at them. "I had to touch you in order to learn it!"_

_The messy creature now looked puzzled. Jackson saw that his eyes were open, and there were four of them- two on each side, the scleras a light yellow, with thick black brows arching over them. His skin was a reddish-tan shade, though parts of his cheeks and widow's peak were lined with violet, and his dark hair fell down his back, though some unruly strands clung to the dried blood on his face. Compared to Jackson, he was huge- his chubby hands and strong arms could have done far more than just hold Jackson in place with ease if he wanted._

 

_"How... you... Touched me, to learn it?" He repeated the words, moving a hand to his face, then pulling it away after realizing half of his face was coated in dry blood. He stared at his hand, grimacing._

_"Yes." Jackson responded stiffly, before managing to clamber to their feet. "As you're near my home, I should be asking who YOU are."_

_"Nobody of importance. Just scientist trying to escape from oncoming mass destruction of home planet, and crashing on unknown planet in process."_

_The man glanced to the broken dome of the ship, sighing before moving next to Jackson and kicking at the metal beneath it. It didn't budge at first, but several more kicks of a large leg came, and soon the hull was forced open. He slid out, and Jackson followed suit, eager to get out of such a tight space._

_They both landed on the dirt with solid thuds, Jackson landing more gracefully than the stranger._

 

_"Aren't you injured?" Jackson asked worriedly. "From the looks of it, you're lucky to be alive."_

_"Lucky? Bah! Ship was built to withstand hard landings. Am having nothing but scratches and bruises. Have been in worse situations than this." The creature shielded his four eyes from the sun, squinting._

_"But... how did you even get here?"_

_The man turned to Jackson, staring at them with annoyance at such a question- did they not know?_

_"Through space. Ship flew from my planet to here. Was mass evacuation ordered from officials to leave planet or die from unstoppable meteor storm."_

_Jackson's stomach dropped in horror at what he described. "I... I'm so sorry."_

_"Is nothing I will miss," The man said, adjusting his coat and smoothing back his messy hair._

_"But your ship flew? Through space? What is-" Jackson looked up at the sky, eye widening as they processed what was said. "You mean, space, as in among the stars?"_

_"...Yes." The large alien replied gruffly. "Your people do not have space travel?"_

_"No? No, we don't. We use airships. It takes a week for us to travel from Dis to the coastline."_

_The man's eyes widened, a deep frown on his wide face. "Oy vey. I am on primitive planet."_

_"Primitive? Excuse me?!" Jackson stomped a boot on the dirt. "We've come incredibly far in our knowledge ever since we've opened the gates to our city and let foreigners in!"_

_"Ah, so you were civilization in isolation, too. Even better." Sarcasm oozed from his voice. "Am going to be stranded on this planet for good, then. Where is city you're even talking about?"_

_Jackson stared at him, before pointing up. "In the sky."_

_The man turned around, looking up where Jackson had pointed, and let out an audible gasp. He gaped at the sight, eyes as huge as they could possibly be._

_"Yes, that one," Jackson said behind him during his moment of shock. "It's called Dis."_

 

_It had been difficult to get the strange creature to cooperate, let alone even accept any assistance, but Jackson's persistence paid off in the end. With a grunt of resignation, he eventually gave in to Jackson's pleas to let them help. Several hours passed as the cyclops helped clean the wreckage, and soon night fell, the planet's two moons high in the starlit sky._

_Jackson was fortunate enough to know some survival skills, gathering wood and grass for a fire to keep warm that night. They were fully intent to stay, much to the unknown creature's chagrin. He climbed out of the ship again, wiping his face with a rag to find that a fire had been lit, and a cloth lied nearby with several strange fruits atop it. Jackson was sitting nearby on the ground, legs crossed._

_"It's fruit," The cyclops said to reassure him as he looked over the food with mild contempt. "Grown in the orchards of Dis. You should eat. I bet you're hungry."_

_"Hrmph." The man sat down on the opposite end of the fire, swiping up one of the fruits and biting into it with blunt teeth._

 

_"Jackson, born of Arrok and Azula."_

_"What?" He looked up and stared at them with confusion._

_"My name," Jackson's brow went up. "Jackson. And my parents. That's how we introduce ourselves here, though I doubt my parents' names mean anything to you."_

_"They don't," He replied, before crunching into another fruit._

_"What's yours?"_

_That question made the other alien pause._

_Jackson rolled their eye. "You know, if you were to die here somehow without my help, there'd be no way to identify you or send you off to the next world."_

_That was enough to convince him. "Such a world does not exist. But, since you insist, Jumba Jookiba."_

_"That's your name?" Jackson asked, vaguely impressed._

_"Yes." He waved a half-eaten fruit idly in his hand. "Would have told you profession and details as scientist, but as you said, titles and such do not mean anything between us."_

_"Well, it does matter, since you're here and you came in this strange ship. It looks like it was made from Black Ore." Jackson had grabbed a piece of the wreckage and kept it on their person, tilting it and letting the firelight make rainbows dance over its dark surface again. "I knew it was strong, but not enough to be made into a ship."_

_Jumba had stopped eating, pausing mid-bite. He only continued when he realized fruit juice was dripping down his hand. "Black Ore?"_

_”It’s an ore from the mountains, but Dis has plenty of it. My father knows how to smelt it. It's a secret carried down through generations, and he'll pass it down to me once he thinks I'm ready."_

_"And you think my ship is same material as what you are calling Black Ore just by looking at it?" Jumba asked, incredulous, but unconvinced._

_"Of course I do. It glitters the same way, and it doesn't melt. It would have in the crash if it did, right? Look."_

 

_Jackson tossed the piece of metal they were holding into the fire. Jumba stood on his feet immediately and yelled out, much to their confusion. He watched as the flames of the fire licked at the metal, but it didn't melt- and it didn't glow from the rising heat, either. Seeing this made Jumba relax, but he glowered at Jackson before sitting back down._

_"Perhaps it is of similar compound, but am doubting it is exact same material." He scooped up the last fruit on the cloth._

_"Well, if you really think I'm wrong, then why don't we go to the city, ask my father, and find out?" Jackson offered a toothy grin. "Since you're a scientist- our engineers are too. You're just like them. They only accept facts."_

_"That is correct." Jumba rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Would very much appreciate it if you turned out to be correct, and I could use material to fix my ship."_

_"Now, hold on. If I help you, I want to ask you something." Jackson tilted their head up slightly in thought. "In the event that we DO get your ship fixed... how far can you go?"_

_"Would be back to normal functionality, I assume. Could travel just as I was before. Only reason I crashed was due to engine failure. Is not difficult repair. Would just have to replace few parts, fix up ship, and-" Jumba raised his arms, spreading them wide. "BOOM! Back to normal. Like nothing ever happened."_

_"Then if you get it fixed with my help, I want you to take me with you." Jackson said plainly, biting into their own fruit._

 

_After hearing that, Jumba would have rather had Jackson throw the hot metal in the fire at him._

_"WHAT?"_

_"You said you can go into space, right? Well, the gates to my city opened, and I decided I want to see the world. From what you're telling me, there's MORE worlds. And I want to see them."_

_"You are crazy!" Jumba replied, eyes wide, horror-stricken. He didn't like the idea of a companion on his ship- he'd always been a loner, and after a failed marriage and a science partnership that ended in total disaster, being alone had been the much better route. He'd become his own best friend- he was the only person that he could depend on, and everyone else was unreliable and untrustworthy. Now he was being asked by a complete stranger to take them with him on some sort of interplanetary joyride._

_"My brothers said the same thing to me when I said I wanted to leave home. You're not the first to tell me that, and you're not going to stop me from wanting to do what I want to do," Jackson said firmly. "Even if you take me somewhere far from here, I know it won't be hard for me to get back home. I've got my methods."_

_"And if I DO take you, how are you expecting to get around? With no technology, no currency that can be used in certain territory- are you having any idea what you are getting yourself into?" Jumba leaned forward, staring at Jackson over the fire._

_"No," Jackson admitted. "But if I come to regret it, then I will learn something from the choice I made."_

_Jumba ran both hands down his face, swearing in his native tongue. Having learned that language by touching him too, Jackson recognized it, stifling a laugh._

_"Fine," Jumba finally gave in. "Fine. Fine! If you are to fix my ship, then I will take you. You will soon learn that you are making dangerous, reckless, utterly ridiculous decision, and will be asking me to turn around, begging for mother and father before you know it."_

_"We'll see." Jackson got to their feet, brushing themselves off. They were determined to prove him wrong, now. "Come, then. We'd better get to Dis."_

 

* * *

 

_Jackson's guess that the ship was made of Black Ore had been right. Shocked, Jumba realized that the cyclops had astute observations, and let them lead the effort to get enough ore smelted for the ship to be repaired. He wondered how the planet had the same resources; perhaps it was more common than he'd imagined._

_It took some convincing, but Jackson's father, an older man weathered from decades of physical labor, was willing to help. He, too, identified the ship's metal hull as Black Ore. His calloused hands worked the lava-powered forge in Dis easily from years of experience, and with Jumba's guidance to mold the smelted metal into the right shapes, things were going in the alien's favor- something he really wasn't expecting. He found that the newly formed pieces of the hull fit easily, and the artisans in Dis even volunteered to rebuild the broken dome of the ship by remaking it in their strongest tempered glass._

_Throughout this, Jumba soon realized that he was very grateful for Jackson coming along and finding him in the wreckage. They were more useful than he'd thought, and they had extended a kindness to him that very few people, if any, offered. And, though he was loathe to admit it, he was definitely lucky to be alive. He'd exaggerated a little on being in worse situations to reassure the cyclops; truthfully, this was one of the worst situations and landings he'd ever dealt with. The culture shock from being in a place without alien technology yet functioning so well was definitely there, and he was even more surprised that the local Priests from Dis's temples aided him in healing his wounds from the crash pretty quickly. Jumba was not a religious man, but being surrounded by people motivated to be so kind toward him just out of their faith instilled a glimmer of hope for a better existence in the universe._

 

_The ship was back to its normal self within a week, fixed so well that it looked like nothing had happened to it at all. When Jumba turned on the engines to test their functionality, he couldn't help but shout out to the sky in thanks as they roared to life. The lights on his console turned on immediately, and the computer had still kept his route intact. Jackson cheered as they watched from a distance, before the two met again outside of the ship._

_"So," Jumba spoke, picking at his teeth for a moment. "Are you still insisting on coming with me?"_

_Jackson swallowed. Their decision hadn't changed, and they'd already said their goodbyes to their family. It was heart-wrenching, with both of their parents stricken with grief and worry- they had overheard their mother's sobs from the palace on their way out. Their siblings had not taken it so well, either._

_"Yeah," They replied, voice quieter. "I'm still going."_

_"You seem conflicted." Jumba was in much better spirits, and on much better terms with Jackson. Not just because they helped, but because of their selflessness. His cold, shriveled heart had been warmed by them. Just a little._

_"I'm going to miss them," Jackson said, staring at the ground. "My family."_

_"They are not going anywhere. They will be here, and when you come home, they will be waiting." Jumba shrugged. "Cannot say that I empathize, simply because I do not understand or relate. Am not having a family of my own to care about, but am appreciative of all you've done nonetheless." He began to climb into the ship, with much more ease now that it wasn't on its side._

_"I was just doing the right thing," Jackson climbed in after him. "I always try to."_

_"You did." Jumba gently clapped the cyclops on the back. "Now strap into back seat. Am one hundred percent sure takeoff will make you nauseous."_

 

* * *

 

_The trip was, indeed, nauseating for Jackson. The poor cyclops had never been in a spaceship before, and the trip was both a terrifying and sickening one. Jumba was sympathetic, however, and luckily there was a space for Jackson to regurgitate everything they'd eaten the night before without making a mess. Jumba was also surprisingly reassuring, convincing Jackson that no, they weren't going to die, and this was entirely normal. It took several hours, but he'd managed to calm an anxious cyclops down._

_After the ship had made it into space, things went much more smoothly- the ship cruised along without any bumps or the force they'd experienced during its launch. Space was pitch black. Jackson peeked out of the dome. They'd expected to see more stars and far more lights. At least they'd be able to share this knowledge when they got home. Everyone would want to know._

_The trip was a quiet one; Jumba wasn't much for talk, and neither was Jackson. Jumba was too busy piloting the ship, and Jackson was enthralled in where they were, pondering where they'd end up._

 

_Those thoughts eventually were met with an answer. Jackson had fallen asleep in their seat, strapped in for safety just in case, when they were woken up by Jumba with a shake of their shoulder._

_"Whuh- wah!" Jackson jolted upright, wiping a string of drool that had trickled from the side of their lip. "What is it?"_

_"Ship has landed. Surprised you did not wake up," Jumba was out of his seat and now wearing a different jacket. His hair looked cleaner, as did the rest of him. "Then again, landing ship is much smoother and more easy than taking off. You are coming, yes?"_

_"Yeah! Yeah. Hang on, let me get up." Jackson unbuckled the straps keeping them seated, before gathering their things and following him outside of the ship._

 

_They'd landed in some sort of port, but there was no water. It was much like the airships docked back in Dis, but instead, the ships were metal. Some came in different colors and shapes. All sorts of different creatures were walking and standing about, more diverse than Dis or anywhere else Jackson could have imagined._

_They followed Jumba's lead, staying close. Taking a moment to glance up, several spaceships were taking off into the atmosphere, leaving and heading off to wherever destination they were fated to go. Jackson marveled at the sights, thrilled to be where they were._

 

_Jackson stopped shortly when they spotted a line of aliens waiting outside some sort of chrome-colored building. They tugged on Jumba's arm, making him stop, glancing to the building Jackson was pointing at. He recognized the metal emblem above the door._

_"Bah. Enlisting line for Galactic Federation. I am having no business with them." Jumba didn't seem too fond of the name he'd mentioned._

_"Who are they?" Jackson asked._

_"Organization that oversees and researches from all stretches across universe. Some have task forces to protect others, a police force. They were ones who ordered evacuation of Quelte Quan when meteor storm was incoming. Planet is uninhabitable now, according to them. They are also NOT fond of individual scientists. Too many restrictions and laws."_

_"How do I sign up?" Jackson asked._

_Jumba did a double-take. "You want to join Galactic Federation?" He couldn't believe what he was hearing._

_"I mean, if they really oversee and research things from ALL stretches across the universe..." Jackson began. "Should we get in line?"_

_Jumba grunted, suddenly understanding Jackson's line of logic. They DID say they wanted to see as much of the universe as they possibly could. "Fine. But do not expect me to sign up. I refuse."_

_"That's fine, Jumba. I've already asked you for enough."_

 

_They walked toward the line, standing at the very end. It would be quite some time before they made it through the door, but the both of them were patient. Inside the building was a large and almost empty room, with an alien sitting at a desk with stacks upon stacks of paper next to them. They had several tentacles that flicked between grabbing pens and packets, handing them gingerly to anyone who was interested in enlisting. Every now and then, they'd ask for the next person in line; Jackson's turn was coming close._

_"Next."_

_It felt like ages before they'd reached the front, and Jackson gleefully approached the table with Jumba at their side._

_"Hi!" Jackson said cheerfully. "I'd like to sign up and enlist in the Galactic Federation."_

_"Yeah yeah, that's why everyone's in this line. Grab a pen and packet, put in all your information. Name?"_

_"Jackson, born of-"_

_"Your FIRST and LAST name only, kid." The secretarial alien's voice was sharp, cutting Jackson off. They clearly didn't want to be there._

_"...Jackson Belmont."_

 

* * *

 

_Back at the docks, Jackson stood near Jumba as they saw an approaching transport vehicle with the unmistakable Federation emblem painted on its side. They weren't the only ones waiting, a sizable crowd of aliens among them. Some were families bidding goodbye to a loved one, hugging them and wishing them good luck and good performance. Jumba didn't seem as happy as the rest of them._

_"So," He said grimly, staring at the ship as it approached. "Guess this is where we are going different ways."_

_"I guess so," Jackson said quietly. "You didn't really seem like you wanted someone around that long."_

_The statement stung and struck Jumba at his core. He grimaced and glanced down, realizing that, for the first time in years, he'd possibly made a friend. Jackson had shown him kindness, giving him so much and asking for so very little in return- a trip on his spaceship really wasn't that much, since he'd been thinking about it. And just as quickly as they'd shown up, they were going to leave._

 

_"Listen," He murmured quietly. "You are not having anything to your name. At all. Going into Federation from unknown planet and having no currency is massive risk. You take this," He quickly grasped Jackson's wrist, much more gentle this time than when they'd met, and placed something in it- a piece of paper. "You find communication device, and you call code written on this if anything happens. Immediately. Are you understanding me?"_

_"Yes," Jackson clasped it in their palm, internally promising to never lose it. "I understand."_

_"Good." Jumba stood there awkwardly- the doors to the transport ship had opened by now, and those who sought to join the Federation were piling in. "Get going."_

_Jackson felt a wave of sadness crash over them, before they quickly moved forward, throwing their arms around Jumba in a tight embrace. The larger alien was incredibly surprised, arms up and hands open. There was a long moment of silence, before his arms also went around Jackson, and their faces pressed together at the brow for just a moment._

_"Thank you," He whispered. "If not for you, I would be stranded, if not dead. I will not forget what you've done."_

_"Don't mention it. Isn't that what friends are for?" Jackson smiled, before finally letting go._

 

_Jumba watched as Jackson rushed onto the ship, leaping over the steps and landing inside with a thump. Among the crowd of other aliens, they stood out. His heart sank even more when Jackson turned around, waving at him- they looked so happy, a glowing smile full of excitement on their face, until the doors closed in front of them._


	6. One of Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! So that last chapter was a long one, huh? Here's chapter 6, which is even longer than that! I do notice that my chapters are getting a bit longer, but I'm making sure each chapter has the information I want to convey, so I guess it's alright. If you've stuck around for this long, thanks so much, and I hope you're still enjoying the fic! This chapter is honestly my favorite so far, and I hope you feel the same.
> 
> Oh, and I FINALLY figured out how to indent on this site! I don't know if I have the energy to go back and edit previous chapters, but I'll definitely do so from here on out. Sorry if that makes this difficult to read!

      “And that’s everything. That’s why I got here without any of those Credits you mentioned.”

 

     Jackson’s stomach was now clawing at itself with hunger. The retelling of events had taken over an hour, with Jackson being careful to not leave any important details out, even pausing in case Pleakley had any questions. Instead of stopping them, he only stared and listened intently, allowing Jackson to continue without interruption.

      Pleakley had grabbed the hot drink he was making and made himself comfortable next to Jackson on the couch, curled up against the arm with his back against it. He was now staring at his half-empty cup, which was no longer steaming after listening to Jackson’s lengthy explanation of events that led to them turning up on the Federation ship.

 

      “So,” He processed every detail, swirling his drink in thought. “You- your people- they’re telepathic?”

      Anxiety washed over Pleakley for a moment as he realized what that power could entail. Had Jackson been able to read his mind the entire time?

      “Sort of? I guess you could say that. I can’t tell what you’re thinking, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Jackson’s statement answered his question and quelled his worries immediately. What Pleakley didn’t know, however, was Jackson was leaving out a  _lot_  more than that. And despite the details of their situation and leaving home only a week ago, they looked surprisingly calm.

      “Do you think I’m lying? Or does it all add up now?” Jackson’s tone was coated with ire, and Pleakley realized he’d offended Jackson by implying that their presence on the ship didn’t make any sense.

 

      The smaller cyclops sighed with relief, his shoulders slumping down as he visibly let go of all tension. “Well, no. This explains everything. How you got here without money, how you managed to get here from your home without any technology… But, uh, this Jumba you were with. Have you even spoken to him since you got here?”

      Jackson shook their head.

      “I think you should,” Pleakley suggested, careful with his tone now, as he’d already hurt Jackson’s feelings in his moment of confusion. He didn’t want to make things  _ _worse.__

      “I will,” Jackson replied. “But I heard that communication here is monitored. I think that’s ridiculous, and I’d like to talk to my friend in privacy.”

      “Jackson…” Pleakley was starting to feel guilty, now. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- I- I didn’t think you were  _actually_  lying. I just didn’t know the details, and without them, you getting here was really hard to believe with what I  _ _did__  know.”

      Jackson’s expression softened a little, and they sighed, scooting a bit closer to him. The two had maintained an uncomfortable distance throughout the entire conversation, making things quite awkward. The apology was enough for Jackson to let it go.

 

      “I’m sorry too,” Jackson began. “I need to just… relax. I know, me ending up here is a shock to a lot of people. I’ve weirded a lot of the agents here out, just on my first day. I mean, Captain Gantu looked at me like I was crazy for asking for a sword during my combat and fitness tests.”

      “And despite you being from a completely unknown place, you speak Tantalog. To them that’s even more strange, but now I know why.” Pleakley took a sip from his coffee, his lips puckering when he tasted something lukewarm and bitter. “That could be considered… er, magic, you know. And the Federation could take you having that ability totally wrong. You could be retiredby the Council.”

      “You won’t tell anyone, right?” Jackson asked, ignoring his expression. Just the thought of the Galactic Council finding out and tossing them onto a planet to fend for themselves made a shiver go up Jackson’s spine.

      “No, of course not!” Pleakley sat upright, placing the cup on the living room table. “You asked me not to, and I promised. This is between us.”

      “What about Meeloo?”

      “She doesn’t have to know.”

      “But what if she finds out? You know she’s in a position of authority, and she might be  _required_ to say something-”

      “She  _won’t,_  and I’ll make sure of that.”

 

      Jackson’s brow rose at Pleakley’s tone becoming firm and determined. Perhaps he was willing to take this information to his grave.

      The silence between them was interrupted by the loudest rumbling they’d heard yet, with the gut-wrenching sounds of tossing liquid and even bubbling coming from Jackson’s midsection.

 

      “Oh, that’s right!” Pleakley reached for his pocket, drawing out his wallet. “You must be starving by now! Come on. I’ll get you some food.”

 

* * *

 

      Jackson had no idea that they had so much freedom on what the other agents called their Off Days. Agents were allowed to leave the ship, according to Pleakley, as long as they carried identification. Uniforms weren’t required, and transport ships would take them to approved destinations for recreation and business. For the first time since they’d arrived, Jackson didn’t feel choked by the collar of their uniform.

      They’d never expected to see Pleakley wear something else other than a uniform, either. It was almost weird. Instead of the normal blue and gold attire, he had excused himself from the room to put on some proper clothes, and came back wearing a tawny orange sweater. Jackson thought it suited him. They, on the other hand, saw fit to wear a sleeveless shirt and pants with boots, at least until Pleakley protested otherwise.

 

      “You’re going to wear  _that?”_ He asked, incredulous. “It’s going to be chilly on planet Sigma 6. You should put something else on. Something warmer.”

      Jackson slouched and sighed with resignation. “Fine.”

 

      The taller cyclops returned moments later with a white long-sleeved shirt of their own. Satisfied, Pleakley led them to the launch bay to depart for their destination. The transport ship was nearly empty when it arrived, allowing the two of them to sit near the windows. Deep space was still a strange sight to Jackson, and traveling through it was still worth marveling at. Jackson kept their eye glued to the window, while Pleakley held a metal device with a screen in his hands. Every now and then, one finger would drag across it.

      The trip wasn’t a very long one. Sigma 6 was the nearest planet, with the Federation ship stationed in its orbit until it was time to move. The ship was so huge that upon stepping out onto the docks, Jackson could see a gray speck in the sky when they looked up.

 

      “That’s our ship?” They asked, boggling at how getting such a large object to fly was possible.

      “It is!” Pleakley replied. “It’s the biggest one in our fleet. The smaller ships for squads and missions are kept in another launch bay inside.”

      “Huh,” Jackson had learned something new, but that had been a regular occurrence at this point. “Neat.”

      “How are you holding up?” Pleakley asked as they walked along. Jackson merely followed his lead- he knew where he was going, and Jackson trusted his judgment. Pleakley was so much shorter than Jackson that they had to walk  _ _slower__  than usual, something they’d need to get used to.

      “Fine. The transport ship didn’t make me sick, probably because we were already in space instead of launching from the ground.” Jackson recalled Jumba’s ship taking off from their home planet, and shuddered upon remembering how nauseating it had been.

 

      Walking for a few minutes longer led the two of them to a cozy-looking diner. Jackson had seen pictures of places like this before in Federation pamphlets, but the pictures had never done the actual setting any justice. The atmosphere immediately felt warmer, and the smell of food wafted into the air, caught by Jackson’s senses. It made their mouth water, and their fingers clenched lightly at their sides as they felt their stomach growl again. The smell made their head feel light, their stomach begging to be given something, anything of sustenance. Steam rose from a small opening on the roof of the building.

      The colors decorating the roof of the diner were bright red and chrome, with the logo of the place emblazoned in metal on a nearby sign:  _Cosmic Ray’s._

 

      “This was my favorite place to go when Meeloo and I had more time,” Pleakley mused fondly, remembering his days as a younger agent. Five years had gone by quicker than he thought. “Her favorite dish was the sliders, and mine was their soup.”

      He reached for the handle of the door, balking upon seeing Jackson’s hand already there.

      “You go first,” He offered.

      “No, _you_  go first,” Jackson insisted in return. Their cheeks turned darker, realizing this was more awkward than it needed to be. Their nice gesture didn’t work as well as they had planned.

      “Ah- fine! Then we’ll just have to go at the same time.”

 

      Once Jackson opened the door, Pleakley waited for them to move forward, and they both slid through, the entrance just wide enough for them to walk side-by-side without anything in their way.

      The smell of food was hitting Jackson’s senses even harder now, making it difficult to focus. Their stomach clawed at them from the inside out again; Jackson was sure that if they waited any longer, they’d grow ill. Determined to make it to the end, however, Jackson followed behind Pleakley as he moved up to a waiting hostess at a podium.

 

      “Good mornin’! How many?” She asked, her clawed fingers reaching for folded menus. She peered over Pleakley and his taller companion with six wide eyes.

      “Two,” Pleakley said, offering a smile. “Are you still serving breakfast?”

      “Yessir, for another hour. Come with me and I’ll get y’all a seat.”

      Motioning for them to follow, Pleakley and Jackson went after the hostess as she led them to a table near the back of the restaurant. She placed the menus down on a smooth white table surrounded by soft leather seats. The two cyclopes slipped into opposite chairs, and she slipped the large menus in front of them.

 

      “Enjoy!” She said cheerfully, before looking over to Jackson. “Pardon me, young ‘un- but I ain’t never seen your kind ‘round here before. Can I ask where ya might be from?”

      Jackson’s eye went wide for a moment, and before they could respond, Pleakley swept in to save the day.

      “Jackson’s from a planet that just got on the Federation’s radar. MO-14X, I think it’s called.” His tone was pleasant and warm.

      “Aw, wonderful! Well, welcome to the outer reaches of space, kiddo. Hope the food ain’t too bad compared to home.”

      The hostess sauntered off, and Jackson leaned forward, their face now a deep red. Mortified, Jackson had their arms on the table, eye wide and a frown on their face.

 

      “What the hell was that about?” They whispered to Pleakley.

      “Federation agents come here all the time. They knew Meeloo by name when she and I came here,” He whispered back. “They’ve never seen you before.”

      “And you just made something up to give them a satisfying answer?” Jackson furrowed their brow.

      “I knew you wouldn’t have been able to answer that, Jackson. I’m just trying to help.”

      “I know, but…  _sheesh,_  I really must stick out like a Harpy’s broken wing.”

 

      Pleakley looked puzzled by that phrase, having never heard it before, but he sat upright without much thought. He looked over the menu, before realizing that this was going to be his money spent. Jackson had mentioned they were starving, and that the sandwich hadn’t been enough to satisfy their hunger. Sure, he didn’t think that Jackson had been ungrateful about the gesture, but how much  _would_  it take to satisfy someone like Jackson, anyway?

      The hostess came back and poured Pleakley a cup of coffee upon his request. When she left again, he decided to press Jackson with some questions.

      “So, do you know what you want?” He asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

      “One of everything.” They responded without missing a beat.

 

      Jackson did not expect to see Pleakley spray coffee all over his menu, arms going up when it happened. Thankfully, it was covered in some sort of film- the smaller cyclops hastily grabbed a napkin and began wiping the remnants of his spittake. Jackson checked their clothes to see nothing had sprayed onto them, much to their relief. After this, though, Jackson couldn’t help but let out a boisterous laugh.

 

      “One of  _what?_ Jackson!” Pleakley stared at them after the mess was gone. “Do you have any idea how much that’s going to cost?!”

      “Free,” Jackson said, unfazed and with a grin. “Look at the bottom of the menu.”

      Pleakley blinked his eye a few times before lifting the menu. He squinted and brought it up to his face, reading some  _ _very__  fine text at the bottom.

 

_AS A PROMOTIONAL OFFER, ANYONE WHO IS ABLE TO CONSUME ONE OF EVERY ITEM IN ONE SITTING WILL HAVE THEIR BILL COVERED AND THEIR MEALS GIVEN FOR FREE._

__

      “You… you’re really going to try, aren’t you?” Pleakley was stunned.

      “Not try,” Jackson was confident. “I’m going to do it.”

 

      Pleakley was sure of it now: Jackson was a risk-taker, to the point of being utterly reckless. From leaving home on a whim to eating an entire restaurant’s menu, he thought whatever weird risk they were willing to take was on the extreme end of the spectrum. It made his stomach twist into knots with anxiety, and he stared at Jackson with his mouth in a straight line, his brow furrowed. He swore that if Jackson didn’t finish each plate in this endeavor, he’d make them pay him back for the costs with their first paycheck.

      Sure- he had savings. He’d been saving for quite some time now, able to do so especially after being promoted. Second Class and up had excellent pay, and it had been earned. But to have even the smallest portion of his savings or paycheck spent on a large amount of food… Pleakley sighed, rubbing his temples.

 

* * *

 

      The staff of the diner were just as surprised as Pleakley when Jackson told their assigned server that they’d be having one of everything on the menu. It would be one plate at a time, per request, with fifteen meals in total- and Jackson made sure that if they were to eat all fifteen in one sitting, everything on Pleakley’s bill would be free. Jackson took this challenge, partially out of guilt for putting the contents of his wallet in jeopardy.

      By the time Jackson had reached plate nine, Pleakley had calmed down well enough. He was starting to believe that Jackson was  _actually_  going to do this- and if they did, well, he wouldn’t have to pay a single Credit for breakfast. That was a huge plus. He doubted that Jackson could pull this feat off more than once, but once was enough. To see them make it to plate nine was honestly impressive- they’d downed the first four quite easily, in under a minute each. Their pace got slower as the number of meals went up, but not slow enough to appear alarming or like Jackson was going to quit anytime soon.

      And Jackson, relaxed as they were, was content to chow down on the most delicious food they’d tasted in a while. They’d never heard of these meals- hash browns, scrambled eggs, pancakes… The names sounded very basic, but regardless, the meals offered had their own satisfying taste. While Jackson ate, they tried to keep Pleakley’s nerves in check with conversation. He’d already eaten his own plate of deviled eggs with biscuits, and he ate much slower, finishing by the time Jackson had scarfed down meal number three.

 

      “Can I ask you a question?” Jackson asked between bites of a breakfast sandwich.

      “Sure.” Pleakley was drinking his third cup of coffee. He felt his hands start to shake. He wouldn’t have a fourth- he’d be jittery for the rest of the day if he did.

      “I told you a lot about my family. What about yours?”

 

      Pleakley almost dropped his cup of coffee, but barely managed to keep the contents from spilling over. Making another mess after spraying his drink everywhere was not ideal. He hadn’t expected to be asked something so personal, but given how much Jackson had told him, it was a fair question to ask.

 

      “My… My family?” He repeated the question, voice quivering a little.

      “Yeah. I haven’t talked to my mother… I miss her,” Jackson said, before taking another chomp. Soon the sandwich was gone, putting them now on plate number ten. A server scooped up the plate as they walked by, preparing to bring them their next meal. “I know I’ll probably be sending her and my Da’ letters or something, if I figure out how to get them to Dis. But you never mentioned anything about your family.”

      “I… I don’t talk to them very much,” Pleakley said quietly, mortified. If Jackson knew the truth, he believed they would judge him. They seemed so close to  _their_ parents and siblings. How could they possibly comprehend Pleakley’s relationship with his own?

      “Why not?”

      Pleakley had one hand grasping the handle of his coffee mug, the other gripping the edge of the table. “It doesn’t matter.”

      “...It does. Don’t you love your family? Don’t you miss them?” Jackson was confused, peering at him and pressing for a real answer.

      “My father isn't around anymore,” Pleakley said quietly, his voice growing darker as he went on. “And I don’t get along with my brother. Or my sister. Or my mother.”

      Jackson was silent for a long, long moment- at least, that’s what it felt like. Pleakley could have sworn he felt their eye boring into him while he only stared at his reflection, shown on the dark drink inside his mug.

      “...Did they hurt you?”

      Jackson’s voice was lower, now. They were catching on. Something was amiss- Pleakley was normally so eager to talk about things with Jackson since they’d met. As soon as the topic of family arose, Jackson’s mind saw the image of impenetrable walls of protection sprouting up from the ground and forming around Pleakley, boxing him in.

      “You can just nod or shake your head. Did they hurt you?”

      Pleakley was still for a moment, before he slowly nodded, clenching his eye shut.

      “Did they hit you?”

      He violently shook his head back and forth.

      “...Emotionally?”

      Another nod.

      “We don’t have to talk about it,” Jackson reassured him. “Not here, if you don’t want to. Or at all.”

      “I haven’t told  _ _anyone__  about it,” Pleakley whispered hoarsely. “You- you’ve told me so much about you. It wouldn’t be  _fair,_  if-”

 

      His gaze shot up when he felt Jackson’s hand clasp around his, before the second moved on top of it.

      “No,” Jackson said quietly with insistence, staring at their twined hands. “If you don’t want to talk about it, then that’s okay.”

      Surprised, Pleakley felt his whole body tremble, before he leaned forward and let out a shuddering breath. The threat of tears burned at his eye, and to have someone so conscientious- so  _ _understanding__ \- was a blessing he never thought he’d receive.

 

* * *

 

      Jackson had finished all fifteen of their meals, and as promised, Pleakley didn’t have to pay anything for their food- another relief, he thought, as he found himself clasping onto Jackson’s arm for comfort on the walk back to the docks. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to mind, or even notice.

      There was no sign of other agents when they arrived at the loading area, and the transport ship came into view not long after. When the doors parted, no one came out, and the two of them were the only ones to go in. Pleakley went first- he stiffened when he felt Jackson’s hand steady him by placing their palm near the center of his back.

      They moved to the very back of the transport ship, where the seats were wide and comfortable. Anytime somebody else was on the ship, those seats were always occupied. Today was different. After buckling in, both agents exchanged glances, before Pleakley tore his gaze away in shame.

 

      “You’re still shaken,” Jackson said, observing his body language. “Do you want to talk about your family at all, now that we're alone?”

      “It’s just,” He took a deep breath. “You… You get along so well with your mother, from what you’ve told me. You love her so much. I mean- of  _course_  love my family! But they just… they don’t understand.”

      “What don’t they understand?” Jackson was confused, but willing to listen. He’d done the same for them, after all.

      “They… They didn’t understand that what I wanted was what I _really_ wanted,” He breathed out.

 

      These thoughts were still raw, and bringing them up opened old wounds. But Pleakley had never talked about this to anyone- not even any of the professionals on the Federation ships. He had been given plenty of opportunities to sign up to speak to one of the counselors on board, but he always found himself avoiding it as often as possible. Maybe with Jackson, things would be different.

      “Like… Like they didn’t approve of you wanting to be in the Federation?” Jackson asked, now moving closer to his side.

      “Exactly,” Pleakley responded. “They wanted me to get  _married._  Find some girl, settle down in some arranged marriage, and just do as I was told. Put my head down and follow tradition.”

      “And you didn’t,” Jackson continued.

      “Not without making them incredibly upset with me, no.” Pleakley felt his stomach still twist and tie itself into knots… but with Jackson, not as much as they had before. Getting these thoughts out may have opened the wounds he’d been trying to suppress and ignore for ages, but the catharsis that came from getting through the pain was… good. It helped. 

      “I signed up for the Federation and enlisted against my mother’s wishes. She was… so, so upset with me.  _So_ upset. Back where I’m from- well, your family’s name and reputation is really important, and I’d basically disobeyed her and tarnished my family name.”

      Jackson only nodded, continuing to listen.

      “And… well… you know… I don’t even know what I like. I don’t even know where I stand on- you know, myself, or who I like.”

      “You mean your gender?” Jackson offered.

      “Yes, that.” Pleakley seemed embarrassed to even bring it up. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?”

      “My people can change the way they look whenever they want. It’s in our nature. I currently look… well, what you would call masculine, but I’ve appeared as feminine and neither. More than once. I’ve changed this many times. I can never settle on one.”

      Pleakley blinked owlishly. “You can just…  _change?_ Like it’s nothing?”

      “Yes,” Jackson went on. “I am not a man or woman, though I chose to look like a man. I notice that the Federation and some of its views… Er… They favor men. Many of your planets follow this set of looks and appearances and genders. In most groups, I’ve noticed it’s just two. It’s… strange. It’s very restricting. Your kind are only hurting themselves by doing that. If someone deviates from that norm, I can’t imagine how stressful it would be for them.”

 

      Pleakley gaped, staring at Jackson with his mouth open. Jackson quickly blinked and sat up, hands going over their mouth.

      “Oh Gods! That opinion- sheesh, it’s very offensive, isn’t it? Me talking about your culture as if it’s wrong… I’m so sorry,” Jackson immediately felt regret, but they were silenced by surprise when Pleakley grasped onto their arm again.

      “No,” He said, his eye shining. “I… I think you’re right.”

      Now it was Jackson’s turn to be surprised. “What?”

      “Ever since I was little, I always thought women’s clothes were… Prettier. More vibrant. My older sister would yell at me because I’d steal her shoes. My brother would make fun of me for wanting to wear- you know,  _those_ clothes. But I wasn’t  _supposed_  to wear them, you know? I’m a man.”

      “But do you  _feel_ like one?” Jackson inquired.

      “No,” Pleakley confessed. “I… I don’t.”

      “Then you aren’t.” Jackson said matter-of-factly. “Nobody where I’m from tries to tell me I’m a woman when I have long hair and paint my lips, or I’m a man when my hair is short.”

      “But it’s different there-” Pleakley began, but Jackson shook their head.

      “So? You’re not with your parents anymore. You’re living your own life and making your own choices. Who’s to tell you what you can be and you can’t? Nobody has that authority over you.”

 

      Those words struck a chord in Pleakley, who went silent as his head began swimming with thoughts.

      “What else?” He asked.

      “What do you mean, what else?” Jackson asked back.

      “Like… what else do your people  _do?_  What are they okay with? Isn't it strange that they choose to look a certain way, despite you not following... you know, those rules?”

      “...Well, it is true that some people choose to look like men and women, and some may even call themselves that. My mother would be one of those people, I suppose,” Jackson thought out loud. “She’s very comfortable in her femininity. I’ve never seen her have a desire to change that.”

      “And your siblings?”

      “One of my older siblings, Myrrick, changes like this all the time. He isn’t really comfortable with just one look, either.”

      “...And he’s still okay with calling himself a ‘he’?” Pleakley was incredulous.

      “Yes. Because at the end of the day, he feels more comfortable being masculine, but sometimes effeminate. We’ve never seen anything wrong with that.”

      “And… and what about you?” Pleakley couldn’t help but ask.

      Jackson stared at him for a moment, having to find the right answer. “I guess you could say I’m a little bit of everything. If the concept of gender were some sort of spectrum, I feel that I would be right in the center.”

 

      Pleakley liked this idea- right in the center. A happy medium. Not having to confirm to one side or the other, unless he wanted.

 

      “But regardless,” Jackson changed the topic back to where it was before. “Your family. You said your father isn’t around anymore?”

      “Yes,” Pleakley said, his moment of peace broken by unhappy memories. “Though he passed when I was very young.”

      Jackson’s expression flickered. “So did mine. My mother says he passed and went on to the next world a month before I was born.”

      “But you mentioned your father when telling me how you got here.” Pleakley pointed out innocently.

      “Yes, my adoptive father. He and my mother were wed when I was a baby, just before the gates of Dis shut back then. He raised me, and he’s always treated me as his own. And I’ve always seen him as my father. He’s been there for me no matter what, like a real father should.”

      Pleakley smiled, unable to help himself. “You’re very lucky.”

      “After what you’ve told me, yes, I believe I am very lucky. But I feel that you deserve better than what you were given.” Jackson responded in earnest.

 

      This made Pleakley’s face turn hotter. Jackson blinked as his cheeks slowly turned from sunny green to deep violet.

      “Wendell?” They asked. “Are you alright?”

      “Yes, I’m-” He wiped his face, as if that would make the blush go away. “I just- no one’s ever said that to me.”

      “Well,” Jackson smiled back at him. “They should.”

 

* * *

 

      The conversation that had ensued that morning made Pleakley open his mind to many more different ideas and thoughts, more than he had ever considered before. Clothes didn’t have gender- they were just pieces of shaped and sewn cloth. How could an item have a gender? Being limited to one set of clothing was a ridiculous idea, now that Jackson had exposed him to it. He was starting to realize that, even if Jackson’s opinion would normally be considered offensive and blasphemous on his world, they were  _right._  He’d spent the rest of the day with the taller cyclops, exposed to new ideas and stances on things that no one back home would even dream of.

      The norms and standards he was holding himself to was doing more harm than good. As he went to bed that night in his dorm, he could not sleep, lying awake in bed, kept conscious by his thoughts.

      He remembered that he and Jackson had never touched on the subject of attraction- another thing that was a hot topic back home, as men were expected to be with women. A woman with a woman or a man with a man was heresy, enough for one to be shamed and removed from a family tree. Pleakley shuddered- if his family knew where  _ _he__  stood on the matter, he’d have been kicked from it in an instant. He believed that such things didn’t matter, and what was on the inside of a person counted more than anything else. Jackson was living, breathing proof of that, especially if they could change their looks so drastically at any given time. Maybe he’d bring this up around Jackson when the opportunity arose for more of those deep conversations that they seemed to discuss very well, with utmost civility.

      Pleakley couldn’t get his mind off of Jackson. The entire time, they’d been so calm, quiet, and a wonderful listener, not to mention so… so  _validating._  Despite the strange happenstances of them being here, he was glad that they were. He’d made a friend, one that he could confide in and trust. Jackson was modest, humbleeven, despite everything that had been thrown at them since leaving home and the position they’d been placed in. Second Class for a new agent with so little technological knowledge was no small feat.

      And Pleakley realized, as he grew more sleepy, that he was already quite attached to them.


	7. Eavesdropping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Hope you all had a wonderful holiday season! Holiday hectics and seasonal blues prevented me from writing for a bit, but I had this chapter half-done and finished it last night. Enjoy!

     The suit that Pleakley wore was tight. He could barely lift his arms, let alone move or breathe, and he made pathetic attempts to inhale as he waited on the altar, barely managing to tug at the outfit that made him want to faint. His mother, standing close enough, swatted at his hands to signal not to mess with it. She’d paid a fortune for this whole event, after all, and _nothing_  was going to ruin it, not if she had anything to say about it.

     The woman he’d been arranged to marry made her way up the aisle; there were soft gasps and _oohs_ and _ahhs_  at her sudden appearance, but he couldn’t be bothered to turn around. For him, this marriage meant the end of his freedom, the taking away of his autonomy. He looked miserable, and he __knew__  this, but everyone else around him didn’t notice. Either they ignored it, or couldn’t see it at all, despite how outward Pleakley had always been with his emotions.

     He looked toward his left. The bride was there, smiling wide, wearing the dress that his mother had picked, passed down through their family over generations. He was surprised that she’d managed to squeeze herself into it. The dress had become worn over time, and he didn’t see the appeal of using something so old for an event that happened years later. Such was tradition. His stomach dropped as the minister began to speak. And, of course, knowing his own mother, she’d hired the best one there was to officiate the ceremony.

 

     “Dearly beloved,” He began. “We are gathered here today…”

 

     Pleakley tuned the rest out. His face burned a violent shade of purple, and for some reason, he wanted to tear off the suit he’d been forced into and let out a blood-curdling scream. But despite having this urge, despite trying to open his mouth and let out even _one_  sound, nothing happened. His lips didn’t move, and his body remained still as stone.

 

     “If there is anyone who objects to this couple being wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

 

     No matter how much he tried, how much he wanted to, Pleakley couldn’t say a word. His voice refused to call out _No, stop, I don’t want this,_  as if it had been ripped from his throat. His entire body burned with embarrassment and misery, forced to stand still and in silence.

 

* * *

      

     Pleakley’s eye shot open when he realized what had just happened had been a dream. It had all seemed so real- the people were, at least. His mother had been there, his brother and sister, and the bride in the dream was the same one he’d been betrothed to. He didn’t recognize anyone else, assuming it was his mind playing tricks.

     His mind wandered to the past. He’d narrowly managed to avoid the fate of being married off to someone he barely knew by enlisting in the Federation. And, like he had told Jackson a day ago, he’d angered his entire family in the process. He was lucky they didn’t disown him then and there when he broke the news to them, and they had been forced to call off all of the wedding plans. Part of him felt guilty- what if the woman they’d chosen actually loved him? No, that was ridiculous. She couldn’t possibly be in love with someone she’d only seen pictures of and never even spoken to.

     Pleakley recalled how he had rushed to the nearest port planet and made it a priority to enlist. It all happened the day after the wedding had been officially called off, and he acted fast, like a runaway. The tests that the Federation gave him five years ago had been rigorous, but he got through them by the skin of his teeth. Ranked Fifth Class, he was just happy to be far from home. Fifth Class or First, it didn’t matter- he made it, and he was going to stay. Even the tiny room and cot that he had as a Fifth Class agent was more peaceful and comfortable than his bedroom back home. Well, home wasn’t home anymore. The Galactic Federation was his home now.

 

     Pleakley sat upright slowly, rubbing his face- this wasn’t the first time he had this dream. The nightmare had been a recurring one, a peek into the subconscious and a show of his absolute worst fear. He’d lost count of how many times that particular nightmare had played in his head, growing accustomed to it happening every other night. Despite that, the imagery and the situation seemed to get worse and worse each time it happened.

 

     His thoughts soon focused on Jackson. Compared to him, Jackson was a beacon of light and hope, and Pleakley was just... there, existing, barely getting by in his head. Around them, things didn’t seem so bad. The fears and dark thoughts that usually loomed over Pleakley like an oncoming space storm were waved off by Jackson’s positivity and cluelessness when it came to how things worked with aliens. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he suddenly imagined Jackson grabbing a broom, waving off dark energies that surrounded them both, demanding them to go away. What a ridiculous thought- and yet, for Jackson, it seemed so in character.

     Sliding out of bed, Pleakley suddenly went still as he heard a small thump from outside his bedroom, standing upright and scrambling to get decent. His pajama shirt had become unbuttoned and almost completely open from tossing and turning in his sleep, and he pulled up his pants a little higher, before carefully peeking out of his bedroom door to see what the commotion was all about.

 

     He blinked several times, surprised to see Jackson crouched in front of his perishables preservation device and stuffing things into it. The brown cyclops was doing this with obvious haste, haphazardly placing wrapped up food among the things he already had in there. Something rolled out from the bottom shelf and dropped onto the floor with another solid thud, obviously from Jackson rushing to put things inside.

 

     “Shit,” They hissed, grabbing a canned drink, before slamming it back inside, harder this time. “Damn it, _stay in there.”_

     “Jackson?” Pleakley knew it was them, but asked the question anyway. “Is… is that you?”

 

     He didn’t expect Jackson to straighten up and _shriek_  in alarm from being caught. The two of them stood there, across the room from each other. Startled enough, now Pleakley shrieked alongside Jackson, making them topple to the floor, unable to keep their balance from being crouched. Jackson was on all fours now, struggling to get up.

 

     “Oh my god!” He yelled, now rushing out from the bedroom. “JACKSON! What are you doing in my dorm?!”

     “I just brought you food! Meeloo said you were still asleep! She used her card key on your door and that’s how I was able to get in.” Jackson wobbled as they managed to stand upright, clinging to the open door of the device.

     “Meeloo let you in? I _TOLD_  her-”

 

     Pleakley stopped. Jackson didn’t look the same as they did yesterday. Instead of having short hair with shaved sides, it was now much longer. It was combed to be parted toward the right side, pooling at the shoulders before the rest fell further down their chest and back. It delicately framed their sharp face, part of it covering the left side; Jackson’s cheeks were flushed red throughout, and they seemed even thinner than when Pleakley last saw them.

 

     “What’s the matter?” Jackson asked, noticing he’d suddenly gone silent.

     “Nothing. I- Did you- did you change yourself last night?” He asked, giving Jackson’s figure a once-over without thinking of the implications of doing so. He noticed that their chest was still flat.

     “I did. I wasn’t feeling very masculine today,” Jackson confessed. “But I wasn’t feeling feminine either, so I went with something in the middle.”

 

     Pleakley knew the word for that. Androgynous. Jackson definitely looked the part.

     “You look good,” He managed to say awkwardly. “It suits you.”

     “You think so?” Jackson’s expression brightened, one hand fixing their hair lightly. The grin faded as their face hardened again. “Gods above. You scared the hell out of me. Don’t do that.”

     “I scared _you?_ You’re the one that snuck into my dorm!” Pleakley had his hands on his hips. “I should be the one scared of YOU!”

     “I snuck in for _perfectly_  good reasons,” Jackson retorted, picking up dropped items and placing them in the device. Nothing fell out now, and Jackson was able to shut the door. “You did a huge favor for me, so I decided to do the same since I was able to get some money.”

 

     Pleakley perked a little- that meant today was payday.

 

     “How did you know what I wanted?” He asked.

     “Meeloo told me.” Jackson answered without hesitation.

     “Of course she did,” Pleakley rolled his eye. “Well, I appreciate it, Jackson. But next time, wait for me to get up. You can keep the food in your storage until then.”

     “She also told me to wake you up. Said you were sleeping in unusually late,” Jackson pointed out. “We were both wondering if you were okay.”

     “Oh.” Pleakley’s face went a shade paler. He glanced toward the clock; it was after ten. He’d slept in two hours later than usual. No wonder they’d been worried. Punctuality was one of his strong points.

 

     “It’s another Off Day, by the way. OUT and three other departments were dismissed from duty until tomorrow. At least, that’s what Meeloo said. Captain’s orders or something like that.” Jackson said cheerfully.

     “Wait, really?” Pleakley rushed to his bedroom, swiping his communicator from the end table at his bedside, scrolling through his alerts. Sure enough, OUT was off for the day, the news blinking over and over on the circular screen. “Oh, no! I was planning to finish my research today! What am I going to do _now?”_  He slumped onto his bed, failing to notice Jackson now standing in the doorway of his bedroom, arms on the frame.

 

     “Uh… Well… Do you want to go out again? Just the two of us?” Jackson’s voice had a hint of shyness to it- as if they were afraid to ask.

 

     Pleakley looked up from his bed, eye a little wider. He stared for a moment, thrown off by the question. But the answer came quicker and easier than he thought it would.

 

     “I… I’d love to.”

 

* * *

 

      Jackson seemed far more eager to be out this time. Sometimes they rushed ahead of Pleakley, much to his chagrin. Since Jackson had money to spend now, Pleakley assumed they were excited to see what they could spend it on. He sighed, wanting to warn them not to blow it all in one go, but decided to wait and see if they were responsible enough to hold onto some of it. On the transport ship, the two were silent, basking in the presence of one another and the serenity of company offered. It was only them on the ship again, and this time they were headed to a different planet a bit further away. The trip would be a little longer, allowing them some time to talk.

 

     “So,” Pleakley fidgeted a little, seated in the back with Jackson as they had the day before. “Remember what we talked about yesterday?”

     “Yeah, what about it?” Jackson looked to him, slumped back in their seat. Their legs were crossed, one resting on top of the other.

     “Well… We mentioned gender, but… there’s something else I wanted to ask about you. Your home.” Pleakley felt his face growing hot again.

     “Ask away.” Jackson offered a pleasant smile, not at all bothered by these conversations.

 

     Pleakley struggled to find the right words to say, wondering how he should go about it. He decided the best way would be to start by sharing what his own world was like, and have Jackson respond with whatever norms they were familiar with.

 

     “Well, back where I’m from, marriage is… very strict. It’s always between a man and a woman,” He explained, bracing himself for either revulsion or shock from Jackson.

     They reacted exactly how he’d expected.

     “Only… _Only_  a man and a woman? Are you serious?”

     “I’m serious.” Pleakley’s tone was grave. “Back home, if a man wants to be with a man, that’s considered… well, unacceptable. Same with two women wanting to be together. Families disown their children like this.”

     “That’s terrible,” Jackson remarked in horror. “Did you want to be with another man?”

     “Yes. Well, sort of. I don’t _dislike_  women,” Pleakley said quickly. “In fact, I’m sure if I found the right girl, I’d be happy with one. But- I’ve always felt more of a preference for men, and I’ve never found a woman I wanted to be with. My family made it extremely clear that I’d be married to a girl one day, and that marrying another man was wrong.”

     Jackson took in this information with a blank stare.

 

     Pleakley was almost shaking now as he continued. “I couldn’t tell them,” He admitted. “If I did, they’d disown me. They almost disowned me when they had to call off the wedding-”

     “You were going to be married?!” Jackson’s voice rose slightly. Pleakley’s hands quickly went up to shush them, and they looked down apologetically. “I mean… You only mentioned a possible arranged marriage, not that you were IN one.”

     “No, I didn’t. They had to call off the wedding when I left for the Federation. That’s why they were so upset. Plans were already beginning, and I…”

     Pleakley’s voice trailed off, and he stopped himself, clenching his fist over his mouth as he tried not to bite his own knuckles.

 

     “...You needed to find a way out,” Jackson finished, their voice quiet.

     Pleakley nodded.

     “I’m so sorry you had to deal with that,” Jackson whispered. “Nobody should be forced to make a life-altering decision like that.”

     “You’re so different,” He choked out. “I wish my family had been more like _yours _,__  where they accepted and loved me and just supported my decisions. I know your mother didn’t want you to leave, but- she didn’t protest, did she?”

     “No.” Jackson moved closer. “She told me she had always been afraid of the day I would leave, but she never tried to stop me.”

 

     Pleakley’s heart burned with envy, but he remembered that Jackson didn’t choose their family, just as he didn’t choose his own.

 

     “Talking about this,” He murmured. “All of this- and spending time with you… I don’t know. It feels different. I feel like a different person.”

     “Because you’re being the person _you_  are, and not what your family _wants_  you to be. You never fit into their mold.” Jackson put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “They should have let you flourish by following your heart. Instead they tried to lock you in a cage. Of course you’d be miserable in that situation.”

 

     How did Jackson manage to say such validating statements that struck him so much to his core? Pleakley felt tears well up in his eye, and he drew his arm across his face as fast as he could, wiping them away with his sleeve. Jackson softened and hooked their own sleeve on the pad of their thumb, wiping away a stray tear that had managed to trickle down Pleakley’s cheek.

 

     “I know, I’m very lucky compared to you.” Jackson began, wiping the underside of his eye now, doing so with the same gentle touch their mother always had. “I always knew that there were some families out there who weren’t supportive of their loved ones. But speaking with you has made me feel… I guess… protective. Like I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

     Pleakley looked up in surprise.

     “What, really?” He coughed, appreciative of Jackson wiping his face. It was an oddly comforting feeling to be cared about like that. “Hah… I’m very weak.”

     “No. You’re not weak. You’re incredibly strong,” Jackson told him. “You’re stronger than you think, Wendell, believe me. You found the courage in yourself to take a stand and get away from a bad future. There are more than likely many others like you that cannot say the same.”

 

     Jackson’s words made Pleakley stop and think for a moment. How many others like him had their identities erased and suppressed for the sake of making their families happy, and maintaining some silly public image?

 

     “Thank you,” He said, voice clearing up. “Maybe you’re right. I can’t imagine ending up where my family wanted me to be. It sort of hurts imagining others in my position. I just worry that what I did was really selfish.”

     “Some people will think that it was. You can’t change how others think if they’ve already decided for you,” Jackson was now closer, their arm around his side. “But there is _nothing_  wrong with putting your needs before other people’s wants.”

     Pleakley hummed in thought, deciding that was a good reason for his choice. Sure, it had been five years ago, but sometimes the memories felt fresh.

 

     “Can I ask about you, then?” He decided to change the subject, satisfied with how that conversation had gone. Jackson’s support had helped him get in a better mood.

     “Sure, what about me?” Jackson was patient, looking at Pleakley expectantly.

     “Well, haven’t you been with anyone? You don’t have anyone that you were… um… in a relationship with, back home?” It was such an awkward question, and Pleakley tried to word it as politely as possible.

     “I’ve never dated anyone, but as I grew up, I realized that gender never mattered to me in terms of attraction.” Jackson answered simply. “It was always personality for me. As long as they’re a good person and respect me, then I’m satisfied. Some physical attraction might be needed, but looks aren’t that big of a deal.”

     “I see. I think it’s about the same for me, just… more with men, or someone more androgynous-looking.” Pleakley fidgeted again.

     “Like me?” Jackson asked with a toothy grin.

     Pleakley was thrown off. Jackson laughed when his face turned violet in response.

 

     “Sorry! I was just kidding. Don’t get mad at me.”

     “Oh, I’m not mad,” Pleakley said, smacking their arm. “But I _am_  going to make you pay for that!”

     Laughter erupted between the two of them, and they barely noticed the time go by.

 

     The planet they landed on was one dedicated to shopping and commerce; small, but busy, with crowds filing down narrow streets and sidewalks among shops and tents with stands. Merchants displayed and sold their wares; voices filled the air from the bustle of passerby and aliens calling out what was for sale. Jackson and Pleakley passed several clothing shops, following signs that led to an area for technology and ship parts.

 

     “So, why’d we come _here?”_  Pleakley asked. “You seem to know where you’re going this time, too.”

     “I asked Meeloo for a guide, and she gave me a map to look over of the Federation’s launch bays and the planets they went to,” Jackson responded, glancing toward a shop. They immediately changed their path, moving toward it; it was a building this time, with more expensive wares kept under watch and tight security. Pleakley followed, even hooking his arm around theirs to avoid being separated.

     “And what are we here for?” He inquired, surprised when Jackson didn’t answer at first. He did, however, notice Jackson eyeing something through the glass.

 

     A communication device.

 

     “Jackson, wait!” Pleakley tugged on their arm, making Jackson look up, eye wide. “You can’t just- if you buy one of those, you can’t bring it back! The Federation is __really__  strict about their communication lines!” He moved in front of them, blocking their view. “What if you get caught?”

     “What makes you think I’m going to get caught?” Jackson shot back with a smirk. “Don’t be so paranoid.”

     Dumbfounded, Pleakley huffed and straightened. “As your assigned mentor, I _forbid_  you from getting an illegal communications device and bringing it back on that ship.”

 

     Jackson’s face hardened with annoyance, sharp cheekbones sinking as their smirk disappeared. _Forbid._  That was one word they did not like. Pleakley shrank back slightly as the taller cyclops’ expression flickered, Jackson’s single brow furrowing hard.

 

     “Then I guess I’ll have to buy it and use it _here,_  and go back to the ship when I’m done.” Grasping Pleakley by the shoulders, they gently moved him aside. “Excuse me.”

     “Wha-” Pleakley slumped against the glass when he realized he’d lost this battle, his expression morphing into a frown. Jackson passed him, disappearing into the shop.

 

* * *

 

   _Bzzt. Bzzt. Bzzt._

 

     Jumba’s hand slammed onto the nightstand next to his bed, fingers dragging along the top to search for his communicator. It was vibrating so strongly that it rattled against the table, the sound so unpleasant that it roused him from his nap. He yawned loudly, looking up; dark circles were under all four of his eyes from a fitful sleep. The screen had a number on it that he didn’t recognize, and the light was bright enough to blind him briefly. He rubbed two of his eyes and swore under his breath; if this was another spam caller, he was going to yell at them in his native tongue this time. The telemarketers and random callers had gotten on his nerves lately, more than usual.

     His thumb hovered over the “answer” button on the screen, before he sighed and pressed it.

 

     “If this is caller trying to sell me ‘bath bomb’ again, I am giving you five seconds to hang up and never call again. I do not need to blow up bath. Five-”

     “Wait, hold on! Jumba, it’s me!” A familiar voice exclaimed from the other end, nearly panicked at his threat.

 

     Jumba nearly dropped his communicator, scrambling and catching it in his enormous hands before bringing the screen closer to his face. All four of his eyes were wide, pupils enlarging slightly as recognition washed over his features. On the screen was none other than Jackson, whom he hadn’t heard from in almost two weeks.

     For the first time in ages, he broke out into a wide smile, some of his blunt teeth showing and his cheeks rising.

 

     “Ah, Jackson! So you _are_  alive!” He let out a guffaw, before sitting upright on his bed and holding the communicator a little more carefully in his grip, now. “Was wondering if you had made it past rigorous tests or sent back to home planet.”

     “How flattering and optimistic of you to say that,” Jackson replied dryly, but couldn’t help but laugh back. “I’m fine. I made it into Second Class.”

     “SECOND?” Jumba was overwhelmed with pride, even for just a split second. “How?”

     “According to the Captain, it was my smarts and adaptability. But… I’m never going to see combat,” Jackson told him, a hint of sadness in their tone. “I was placed in the Department of Outreach to Unknown Terrestrials.”

     “...I see.” Jumba’s tone fell flat. Even __he__  knew what that meant, apparently. Jackson’s face went a little darker with embarrassment.

     “But- um- I’m having a lot of fun, actually,” The cyclops on Jumba’s screen confessed.

 

     Jackson was seated on the ground with their legs crossed, holding the communicator they’d bought. With Pleakley’s help, they’d made it to the city limits. The concrete ended at their feet, and beyond that was nothing but dark blue grass. The edge of the planet’s biggest city had quite a gap of distance between that one and the next, with wide open plains spread before the last few abandoned buildings. Jackson was leaning against the wall on the outside of one of them- not another soul could be found here, and it was nice and quiet; perfect for a private conversation.

     Pleakley, on the other hand, had been asked by Jackson to give them some space. He almost felt offended; they had opened up to him and he had opened up even _more._  Pleakley was able to shake his feelings on the matter within a few minutes of thinking rationally. After all, Jackson _had_  told him in advance that the entire reason for this little event was for some privacy. He couldn’t help but wonder what could possibly be so private about this. Was Jackson hiding something? No, they had told him the truth. The entire truth. There was no doubt in his mind; Jackson had been nothing but upfront and honest, only when asked.

 

     Pleakley found himself curled up on the other side of the wall inside what appeared to be an abandoned bar. Empty bottles and broken pieces of glass were scattered among the tile flooring, making him have to worry about his footing when he’d slipped inside through the lopsided doors. Old posters for famous musicians across galaxies had faded almost completely. The rusted metal of the walls had left several holes from years of wear and tear, allowing him to eavesdrop on the entire conversation from where he was sitting. Jumba’s voice was deep. Tantalog definitely wasn’t his first language. And, judging by the happiness in his _and_  Jackson’s voices, the two of them were all too happy to be reunited in some way again.

     If Jackson found out that Pleakley were listening, the trust between them would be ruined. Maybe they’d be so hurt they would never talk to him again. The thought of losing Jackson to someone he didn’t even know made a hint of jealousy bubble from the pit of his stomach, but he nearly slapped himself when he realized what path his mind was wandering, and brushed it off. He’d been tuning out the conversation while lost in his thoughts before realizing why he was there, his senses sharpening again as he leaned closer to the wall to listen.

 

     “-and my only thing is, how am I going to get home should I be able to?” Jackson asked now, sounding a little less enthused now. “I have no clue, other than… well, you know.”

     “Ah, lucky you. When we left home planet, I saved coordinates on route. I will send them to you when we are hanging up.” Jumba responded.

     “R-Really?! You mean I’d be able to find my way home?” Jackson almost shouted with excitement.

     “Yes, if you are to use ship and input coordinates. But why are you seeming so eager to go back already?”

     “I… I just miss home. I’d like to know how to go back when I’m ready, that’s all.”

 

     There was a moment of silence, before Jackson spoke again.

 

     “But I can’t imagine what you’re feeling, Jumba. You… you _can’t_  go home. Even if you wanted to, it’s… it’s not _there_ anymore. I can’t even begin to wonder what that’s-”

     “Is best to not be talking about it,” Jumba cut them off quickly. “I had no control over situation. Others like me left and survived- according to news that was cast all across communication channels, there were no deaths. Everyone of my kind were given notice and had time to leave. They will have to just find other place to live.”

     “What about you?” Jackson’s voice trembled a little.

     “Eh. I have never been comfortable staying in one place. I will be fine. Such is life of scientist that is not accepted among society. You seem more worried about me than yourself.”

     Jackson chuckled softly. “…You’re right.”

     “So. About you,” Jumba felt odd diverting the conversation to something that _wasn’t_  about his scientific endeavors, or himself. “Have you made friends in Federation department? Perhaps found date or partner?” He added that last bit teasingly, grinning widely on Jackson’s screen, enough for his eyes to narrow a little.

     Jackson felt their face grow hot. “Well… Uh… There is someone.”

 

     On the other side of the wall, Pleakley froze. He’d been fidgeting, messing with a string that had come loose on the sleeve of his sweater, trying to tug it off to no avail. Jackson mentioning _someone_  made him pause and look up.

     “There’s this… well, I don’t know what he is, but he’s a cyclops like me, you know? He was assigned to be my mentor. I was a little worried that we wouldn’t connect at all. But I trust him,” They began.

     Pleakley felt his hearts racing, both of them pounding hard in his body. His stomach began to feel like it was twisting and tying itself into knots again, and he slumped downward, bringing the collar of his sweater up and over his mouth. He sat still, eye wide and shoulders risen and tense. Now would not be a good time to be caught listening when he wasn’t supposed to be.

 

     “He was really kind to me when I first arrived. And my department head, too. They’ve both been really accommodating and helpful, and they even told me it was okay that I didn’t know too much about technology,” Jackson went on. “They’re teaching me. Slowly. I mean, I figured out how to use _this_  thing, so that’s something. I want to ask him to help me do my first presentation when it’s time for me to start making one to show to the Galactic Council.”

     “Ah,” Jumba was listening intently. “So you made friend, then.”

     “I think it’s more than that, even in such a short time. Close friends? At least- to me, it is.” Jackson sighed. “I don’t know! I get attached to people so easily. We went out to breakfast together and had this really deep talk-”

 

     Pleakley had heard enough. He got up quickly, trying to shuffle away in silence and not give away his position. His own face felt like it was on fire, and upon passing a broken metal jukebox, he could see in his reflection that nearly his entire face had turned a deep violet. He swore at himself internally, feeling like he’d just breached Jackson’s privacy, and that he was a terrible person for it. They really had nothing to hide, after all.

     Luckily for Jackson, they were still completely oblivious. But the conversation went on.

 

     “And then there’s the issue of me telling him everything else. What you figured out on your own. That- Dis- it’s all powered by magic, that I’m a _mage._ You said if I told people they’d think I was crazy and dangerous. Even __you__  didn’t think it was real until we went back to the city.”

     “He hasn’t figured out?” One of Jumba’s brows rose in surprise.

     “No. He only thinks I’m telepathic- well, because I told him I had to learn Tantalog by touching you. But I swear,” Jackson shook their head rapidly. “He doesn’t know anything else. How am I going to tell him everything else about me?”

     “You only tell him if you are ready and trusting him with your life to never tell __anyone__  else.” Jumba pointed sternly at the screen, now curled up back in his bed. “Yes, is true, I did not believe it until I was seeing it. To this day, am still believing what you do can be explained somehow with science, and is strange and confusing. Galactic Federation is much like this, but worse and paranoid. They are having eyes and ears are everywhere. There is no way you will be able to tell him the truth on main ship. Or any ship belonging to Federation, for that matter.”

     Jackson’s expression hardened.

     “Agents cannot be trusted,” Jumba warned. “One moment you will be telling him in confidence, and next thing you know: smaller one-eyed ‘friend’ of yours has snitched because he is afraid of what he does not know, Galactic Council marks you as dangerous, and you are exiled to desert asteroid. Or worse.”

     Jumba’s own voice wavered at the last part of his speech, and Jackson held the communicator closer to their face as if it would bring them together again in person.

 

     “I’m sorry,” Jackson murmured. “I got you into such a mess, Jumba. I really shouldn’t have asked you to bring me with you.”

     “Hah!” Jumba swatted at the screen, as he was unable to do it to Jackson in person. “Do not be ridiculous. You got me out of even bigger mess and back into space, only asking for small favor in return. Least I can do is listen when you need it, even if I am terrible at giving advice.”

     “I’m scared,” Jackson admitted.

 

     Jumba’s face fell, and he sighed, running a hand through his messy, dark hair. He tried to give them a reassuring smile- but he thought he looked ridiculous and strained at best.

 

     “Ah. Listen- is okay. Really. As long as you are careful… Well, if something is to happen, you call me and I will come get you. And I will take you home, if you want.”

     Jackson felt a little better upon hearing that. “I wish I could hug you right now.”

 

     Jumba’s ears went out in surprise, the tips turning a slight shade of pink.

 

* * *

 

     “I’m done.”

 

     Jackson turned the corner of the other side of the building where Pleakley had been waiting for them. Their hands were in their pockets, and they looked a little sullen, more than before. Pleakley didn’t catch the second half of the conversation since he’d left, but he guessed that it had either turned into a talk about Jackson’s home, or went awry in some other way.

 

     “Are you okay?” Pleakley asked, concerned. He managed to shake off the surprise from earlier.

     “Yes. I just hated saying goodbye,” Jackson told him. “And it’ll probably be a while before I can call him again.”

     “It’ll be okay,” Pleakley tried to reassure them, placing a hand on their arm. “I’m… I’m sure we can find a way around the Federation’s systems. There’s got to be a way- I mean, if Meeloo did it…”

 

     Jackson’s ears went up, and they stared down at Pleakley with a wide eye and furrowed brow. He realized he’d slipped, and pulled the collar of his sweater over his mouth, shrinking back.

 

     “What did she do?” Jackson asked.

     “Nothing! Nothing at all!” Pleakley deflected, lowering his sweater to speak before yanking it up again.

 _ _“_ Wendell!” _Jackson grasped his collar and tugged it back down, heart hammering with excitement. “You just said she got around the Federation’s monitoring! That’s genius! How? How did she do it?”

     “She… She hacked into the system and made an unauthorized call without getting caught,” Pleakley confessed as he trembled. “Oh, _please_  don’t tell her I said anything. She’ll kill me! I didn’t even know she was a hacker! She’ll demote me, she’ll-”

     “Relax! I’m not going to tell her, okay? You promised not to tell her about how I got here, so we have a deal on this.” Jackson grasped his shoulders gently. “I have Jumba’s communication code, _and_  he gave me the coordinates to my home planet because he saved them. If there’s a way to call him without being monitored, then I need to know.”

 

     Pleakley’s lip curled. “Well, as far as I’m aware, she’s the only person that knows how to get past the computer’s security protocols...”

     “Meaning…?”

     “Meaning, we’re going to have to talk to her if we want to find out.”


	8. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW. Wow, it's been almost 2 months since I updated... I'm sorry, y'all. Life has been hella hectic, but I had this chapter halfway done for a while. Last night I had the inspiration to finish it. Shoutout to JCMorrigan for beta reading it for me and helping me make this chapter more coherent. It was a mess.
> 
> BIG TRIGGER WARNING: There's mentions of parental death in this chapter. It isn't graphic, but there's a warning for you in case it's a topic you can't handle. Stay safe!
> 
> Enjoy the read!

     Jackson found it difficult to sleep that night. For the first time in many years, anxiety kept them awake, heart hammering in their chest and palms almost slippery with sweat. Pleakley had let it slip that Meeloo knew how to hack into the Federation’s communication system and had made an unauthorized call, without getting caught.

     Just the thought set Jackson on edge. What if she  _had_ been caught? The consequences, according to Pleakley, would have been dire. The two of them had discussed it upon returning to his dorm, where Jackson was content to stay for a bit, enjoying his company. During hours of conversation and mulling over possibilities, Jackson found themselves wondering if it would ever be possible to somehow reach their family back home with approved Federation communications. Pleakley had barely noticed Jackson zoning out into their thoughts, yammering on about Federation rules and procedures and what they entailed. It wasn’t until he said he was tired and needed to start his bedtime routine that Jackson took the opportunity to head back to their own living quarters, alone in their thoughts.

     While laying on their back, Jackson dipped a hand under the collar of their shirt. The string with the crystal pendant was still there, hidden and unmoving this entire time. Jackson never took it off. Pleakley had never noticed it or asked about it, much to their relief. Running their thumb along the length of the crystal, it slowly lit up and emitted a soft glow, a very faint ringing sound coming from it as it vibrated in their grip.

 

     “I’m okay, Mom.” Jackson whispered quietly to the object, staring at the ceiling. “I’m just scared. I can’t use my magic here. If I get caught, I could be in danger. But I’m okay, in every other way. I’m trying to figure out how I can see you again. I got myself into something a bit more complicated than I thought it was…”

_“Just promise me that one day, you’ll come home.”_

     Jackson jumped when the voice answered back from the crystal. It sounded tearful and pained. They grasped it tighter, eye wide.

 

     Their mother’s voice was unmistakable. Jackson realized she had been listening to them every time they spoke to the item, connected by a crystal of her own, far, far away. Jackson knew from the beginning that they were connected, but not like this. Her giving them the item the evening they spent in the boat on the lake all made sense now.

     Hearing their mother’s voice was a necessary comfort, but it also made them homesick. Their stomach dropped, and their chest tightened. A tear slid from Jackson’s eye down their cheek as they took a deep and shuddering breath, grasping the crystal tighter between both hands.

 

     “I promise.”

 

* * *

 

 

     Jackson arrived to work the following morning, barely on time. They had managed to roll out of bed, shower, and get dressed, their long hair tied back in a loose ponytail. Jackson maintaining the androgynous look made several people in the department do a double-take with confusion upon seeing them, knowing they had looked different only days ago.

     Pleakley had been the first to notice Jackson’s fatigue almost immediately when they walked by his desk to head toward the library. Other than the dormitory, it was the most comfortable place to be on the ship for the taller cyclops.

 

     “Wow, what happened to you?” He asked, spotting the dark shadow under Jackson’s eye. “Did you get any sleep?”

     “No,” Jackson grumbled, stopping in their tracks to answer him. They blinked once, clenching their eye shut before slowly opening it again.

     “...Everything okay?” The smaller cyclops asked, now looking a tad concerned.

     “I just had a nightmare,” Jackson lied. “Couldn’t sleep after that.”

     “Oh,” He responded, cheeks turning purple. “I’ve been there. Sorry to hear.”

     “It’s fine. Gonna go to the library and get started on the research project you told me about.”

 

     Jackson moved toward the library again, only to stop when Pleakley cleared his throat awkwardly.

     “You don’t have to do that for another month or so, you know,” Pleakley offered gently, knowing Jackson was exhausted. “I mean, since you’re a new agent. We don’t present until the beginning of the next Turian sweep, and that’s… well, almost five months time from now.”

     “Oh,” Jackson sounded a little disheartened. “Well, uh, better to be prepared far in advance, I guess?”

     “Jackson, you’re a mess. You’re in no condition to work, and I can tell just by looking at you!” Pleakley stood up from his desk. “Did you eat?”

     “No.”

     “Have you had anything to drink?”

     “...No.”

     “Please tell me you at least took care of yourself somehow.”

     “I got out of bed, took a bath, and came straight here.”

 

     Pleakley grasped Jackson’s hand, pulling it toward him, before placing something wrapped in wax paper into their palm. Jackson’s eye opened when they smelled something familiar, perking up a bit. Food. They held the item and immediately looked down, feeling that it was warm under the wrap.

 

     “Well, maybe a breakfast sandwich will help.” Pleakley said with a smile. “And, knowing your big appetite, I got you five. It’s got bacon… since, uh, you said you liked bacon when we went out that one morning.”

     “How did you even know I’d need these?” Jackson asked, incredulous.

     “Because I came to your door before I left to clock in, and you didn’t answer when I buzzed in. Meeloo was there, too, but she didn’t want to invade your privacy. We were hoping we could walk together to get to work, but you didn’t wake up. I figured I’d get you something, just in case.”

 

     Jackson held the wrapped sandwich in their hands, awkwardly tapping their fingers along the item before placing it aside on Pleakley’s desk. They moved forward and brought him into a hug, making him let out a breath of surprise. The smaller cyclops was short enough to have his face perfectly level with Jackson’s chest, and he could barely hear their heart racing beneath. Pleakley loosely wrapped his arms around Jackson’s back in turn. Time seemed to slow for a moment, and his face felt hotter than ever.

 

     “Thank you for that,” Jackson said quietly. “It means a lot that you thought about me. I’m glad you’re my friend.”

     Pleakley swallowed. “It’s… It’s no problem! I mean, that’s what friends are for, right?” He soon let go and wriggled a bit in Jackson’s grip, unsure if he wanted to stay there forever, or break free and run across the office screaming, begging to be ejected into space instead.

     Letting go, Jackson was smiling wide now despite looking utterly exhausted. Their cheeks were also flushed. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry. I’m just getting sentimental, I guess.”

     “I-It’s okay,” Pleakley stammered awkwardly, unable to help but smile, himself.

     “I’d better go,” Jackson said quickly. “Since I don’t have to research, I’d better find Meeloo. Ask her some questions about ha- Uh, about what she wants me to do in the office, if I don’t need to make a presentation yet.”

 

     Before Pleakley could reply, Jackson dashed off, leaving him there with his mouth open. He shut it and puffed his cheeks slightly, brow furrowing. He’d definitely caught that slip, and knew the __real__  reason Jackson had been so quick to leave. He watched as Jackson turned a corner, their long hair almost floating behind them as they raced off, slumping back into his chair and leaning on one hand.

 

* * *

 

 

     “Excuse me- Pardon me- Have you seen Meeloo? No? Okay, sorry. Have _you_ seen Meeloo? No? Oh, gods.”

 

     Jackson had looked everywhere in OUT, asking various employees if they’d seen their department head or not, but no one knew where she was. Jackson decided they’d begin to search outside the department, rushing out into the hallway toward the cafeteria. Maybe Meeloo was on break. Yeah, that was it! She had to be on break. Jackson walked at a brisk pace, caught up in their thoughts and not watching where they were going, until they suddenly collided with something solid.

     Whatever they bumped into, it didn’t move. Jackson fell backward and onto their rear, shaking their head rapidly and their face turning red with embarrassment.

 

     “Agent Belmont?” Captain Gantu’s baritone voice came from above. “What in the world are you doing?”

 

     Jackson looked up, mortified. They hadn’t bumped into just anyone- they’d bumped into the Captain! They realized they’d smacked right into one of his legs. They sat on the ground for a moment, eye wide and ears back.

     Gantu sighed, offering a huge hand to help Jackson up. Jackson thanked him quietly, grasping onto his hand and using it as leverage to help them stand. Once they were on sure footing, Jackson offered a salute. Their face was red.

 

     “I’m sorry, Captain, I-” Jackson began.

     Gantu cut them off. “What are you doing outside of your department? It’s too early for lunch.” His blue eyes stared directly at Jackson, narrowed with suspicion. They looked even more intimidating without pupils, making a chill go up Jackson’s spine.

     “I-I was looking for my department head, Sir,” Jackson answered quickly. “I had some questions for her about my work. I just haven’t been able to find her, which is why I left OUT’s office. I asked everyone else and they didn’t know, either.”

     “I see. Well, you weren’t able to find her because she’s in a meeting right now with other department heads,” Gantu said, one hand on his side, the other motioning to the end of the hall. His tone was stern, but he didn’t hint that Jackson was going to be punished for wandering off. “She won’t be out for another hour or so. You have no reason to be out here, so get back to your post. Stay out of trouble, Belmont.”

     Relieved, Jackson nodded, before saluting again. “Y-Yes, Captain. My apologies. I’ll head back, now.”

 

     Jackson did as they were told, briskly walking back toward OUT. Once they were out of earshot, Gantu scratched his head, blinking a few times.

     “I could have sworn that agent looked different the last time I saw them,” He muttered under his breath, confused.

 

* * *

 

 

     Jackson huffed as they made it back to Pleakley’s desk, collapsing on top of it. They were on their knees, tall enough to lean onto the desk from the floor. They looked a little worse for wear, making Pleakley sit upright at his computer in alarm.

 

     “Jackson! You’re back! What’s wrong?” He asked, scooting his chair over to the side of the desk the taller cyclops was laying on. Jackson’s hair was partially pooled onto the desk, the rest falling down their back.

     “I bumped into the Captain,” Jackson groaned. “I left the department to look for Meeloo, and- _he_ was there. I wasn’t watching where I was going, and- BAM! Right into him.”

     “Was he angry?”

     “No, but he told me to get back to my post.”

     “Well, good thing he wasn’t mad. I think he goes easy on you, since… you know.” Pleakley’s voice trailed off.

     Jackson looked up, brow furrowed slightly. “Since what?”

     Pleakley’s face contorted into an expression of uncertainty. “Since… Um… You’re from a planet outside of the Federation’s network.”

     Jackson’s eye drifted downward.

     “Why were you looking for Meeloo, anyway?” Pleakley asked, changing the topic.

     “I think you know the real reason,” Jackson confirmed his suspicions. “What we talked about yesterday. What you told me about her.”

     Pleakley sighed, putting his face in his hands for a moment. He took a deep breath before relaxing his shoulders and bringing his arms downward in some sort of sweeping motion- his best attempt to be zen in the moment. His eye was shut, before he opened it, giving Jackson a harder stare than usual. Their eyes met, and for a swift moment, Jackson felt tense. If it were possible, Pleakley’s stare would be boring into their soul.

 

     “You know that this is a really, _really_  bad idea, Jackson. It’s dangerous to pursue. If you get caught-” He began, his voice stern.

 _“If_  I get caught.” Jackson interjected.

     “If you do this without being careful, then you _will_  get caught. If you’re reckless about this, then it’s pretty much guaranteed.” Pleakley warned them, annoyed that he’d been interrupted. “Why don’t you file a request with the Federation’s offices to see if they can contact your home planet and give you the resources for approved communications?”

     “And scare the living spirits out of my people, sure. What if Federation ships show up to Dis? How am I going to explain that?” Jackson’s brow arched. “Besides, wouldn’t that take weeks- even _months_ to process?I heard someone say that the office for petitions has a massive backlog.”

     “You’re right, but unless you want to go off-planet or sneak around to contact your family, that’s what you’ll have to do.”

 

     Jackson sulked a little.

     “I know you miss your mother.” Pleakley’s tone grew softer, more understanding. “I… I don’t understand completely, but I can tell how much your family means to you. We’ll figure something out, okay? Don’t rush it.”

     Jackson nodded slowly, pulling themselves to their feet and brushing themselves off. “I’m sorry for being reckless.”

     “You have nothing to apologize for. It comes from a place of good intentions-” Pleakley began.

     But Jackson shook their head. “There’s a phrase my people use- in our language, it carries its own meaning, but when translated it means that the road to the worst place you never intended to be is paved with good intentions. So… as much as I loathe to admit it, you’re right about this.”

 

     “Right about what?”

 

     A familiar voice came from behind Jackson, making them jump and wheel around. Meeloo stood there, her large, dark eyes unblinking as she had only caught the tail end of the conversation. Both Jackson and Pleakley momentarily looked alarmed.

     “Why are you two looking at me like that? You’re acting like you’re talking about something you shouldn’t be.” Meeloo was carrying a folder, placing it neatly on Pleakley’s desk after stepping forward, standing right next to Jackson. “Well?”

     “It’s nothing,” Jackson answered quickly, lying through their teeth.

     “I see.” Meeloo didn’t buy it, but didn’t let that show in her face. “Well, I just got out of a meeting. Captain Gantu said you were looking for me?”

     “I… Yeah. I had something to ask.” Caught in their lie, Jackson could feel Pleakley’s stare boring into them again- and he certainly _was_  staring again, this time right at Jackson’s face, their expression becoming less and less composed.

     “What was it?” Meeloo didn’t think anything of it, shuffling through the folder’s contents. “Wendell couldn’t help you with it, could he?”

 

     There was a sound slam, and both Meeloo and Jackson turned with alarm to see Pleakley’s palms flat on the desk.

     “I shouldn’t have told you _anything,_  Jackson.” He sounded angry for the first time in- well, ever, and it actually made the taller cyclops step back in surprise.

     “It’s not like I asked. You let it slip!” Jackson shot back, their ears going back from the tone of his voice. The only time anyone had taken such a stern tone back home was when they were in _deep_  trouble.

     “And then you pressed for more.” He reminded them, his brow furrowed.

     “And _you_  answered anyway! You could have said no, so who’s really to blame?” Jackson’s voice grew a little more firm, and their statement made Pleakley’s expression briefly flicker to one of shock. Just as quickly as it had shown, though, it vanished, transforming into a glare.

 

     “What are you even _talking_ about?” Meeloo was confused, her voice shaking and her hands fidgeting with the folder. She was almost tearing it open without realizing it.

     Pleakley rubbed his temples before turning to Meeloo, making sure to maintain eye contact. “Last year. Ten months ago.”

     He didn’t need to drop another hint. Meeloo’s eyes went wide, and her ears stood directly upright, before they fanned outward. She nearly dropped the folder she was holding.

 _“Wendell!”_ She hissed, moving in closer and almost crouching. “Why did you-”

     “No. Nope. Not here.” Pleakley stood, his hands out. “We are NOT discussing this here.”

     “Fine!” Meeloo’s voice still trembled, but the tone became harsher. “We’ll _definitely_ be discussing this _somewhere else!”_

     Both of the higher-ranked agents stared at one another, before Pleakley went around his desk, digging his hands into his pocket to find his card key.

 

     “I’ll guess I’ll wait here-” Jackson began, until they felt their arm being yanked. Their eye went wide, and they looked down to see a very, _very_  angry pink alien.

     “Oh, no you don’t.” Meeloo, despite being short, was surprisingly strong. She held onto Jackson with a grip even they would have trouble breaking out of. “You’re part of this mess, too. You’re coming!”

 

* * *

 

 

     Meeloo’s dormitory was neater than Pleakley’s, and to Jackson, that was impressive. Not a single thing was out of place, and the floors, even the rugs, were practically glistening from spotlessness. The walls were decorated with framed medals and prestigious awards for years of dedication to the Federation and her position. It gave the impression that she was very, _very_ devoted to her job.

 

     She practically shoved Jackson and Pleakley inside and slammed the door behind them when they had arrived. Jackson, not being as graceful, nearly fell forward and grasped onto a wall to avoid toppling to the floor.

     “Sit.” Meeloo pointed to the couch that was in the living area. The word was definitely a demand and not a request.

     Pleakley and Jackson exchanged glances before awkwardly moving to the couch, sitting down next to each other. This time, there was a considerable amount of space between them, and Jackson avoided looking at the other cyclops. Meeloo had vanished into the kitchen, but returned with a large bottle, pulling out a cork with her teeth. She soon sat on the loveseat that was opposite the couch, tipping her head back with the bottle and taking a gulp.

 

     Pleakley let out a gasp. To Jackson, it sounded quite dramatic.

“Meeloo! You have _alcohol?!”_ He sounded truly horrified, as if his superior had done something blasphemous. “You know that’s not allowed on the ship!”

     “It’s just wine, Wendell. I’m going to need it, since I have to deal with _this_ shit.” Meeloo’s professional demeanor was gone. She was a completely different person. “I’d like to know what _exactly_  happened that caused Jackson to find out about this. I want an explanation, and I want it _now.”_

     “J-Jackson bought an unauthorized communication device.” Pleakley surrendered immediately.

"Wendell!"Jackson exclaimed frantically. "Are you _serious?!"_

     “They didn’t bring it back!” He added frantically, knowing Jackson would see this as a huge breach of trust. “They got rid of it before we came back on the transport ship. They used it to keep in touch with a friend of theirs, since it was a violation to have it on-”

     “I don’t care about that.” Meeloo interrupted harshly, holding the neck of the bottle. Jackson thought her grip would break the glass. “You weren’t supposed to tell _anyone_ I used an unauthorized line. I trusted you not to tell anyone when you caught me. Do you have any idea how much of a risk this is with Jackson knowing?”

 

     The question made Pleakley take a sharp breath and stare at the floor, and Jackson turned their gaze away from him, too. They looked at Meeloo with momentary shock at her boldly implying that they weren’t to be trusted.

     “I’ve talked with Jackson and have spent time with them. They’re not dishonest.” Pleakley said softly. “They have nothing to gain from outing you, Meeloo. I know we can trust them.”

     “I trusted _you_ to keep that between us.” Jackson’s voice oozed with bitterness, and it made Pleakley visibly flinch.

 

     For a moment, Jackson thought that Jumba had been right. Pleakley’s loyalty remained with the Galactic Federation _ _.__ Jackson internally kicked themselves for believing anything else. The only reason he hadn’t sold out Meeloo was because of their history. Jackson wasn’t that important. They never _would_  be. He’d let out the fact that Jackson had broken a rule to his superior without so much as a second thought. It stung.

 

     “What am I _supposed_  to do? Lie? Let you get caught, and watch helplessly as the Galactic Council investigates you?” Pleakley turned to them now on the couch, his body facing them. “You don’t know your way around space, Jackson! If you were to mess up and get thrown out onto a port planet with no money in your pocket, how do you expect to get home?”

     Jackson slowly turned their head and gave him a hard stare. “That’s none of your business.”

     Pleakley’s expression flashed from surprise to hurt.

     “Alright, that’s enough.” Meeloo’s voice cut their conversation short. “Look, Jackson, since Wendell trusts you, _I’ve_ decided to trust you, too. I’ve known Wendell for a few years, and we are extremely close. For that, I have faith in his judgment. But I _swear.”_  She got up from her chair, moving toward Jackson with a finger out. “You had better not make me regret this. If you let ANYONE else find out, I will personally make sure you are sacked and thrown off this ship.”

     Jackson’s heart hammered in their chest, staring right into Meeloo’s eyes. Her gaze was filled with fury. Jackson’s jaw tensed, even as she sat back down and took another swig from her bottle.

 

     So, it was that serious. And she was willing to throw them to the wolves if things went wrong.

 

     “As for what I did, the Federation’s communication system is on a specific network. I found a way to get the codes for that network by hacking into the system, and bought a device with a code number outside of that network. Communication lines run on codes that stand for specific radio signals. Every time I use it, it doesn’t get caught by the Federation’s detection devices. It’s used by people, that… that usually deal in illegal trade.” Meeloo sounded ashamed to admit that, her expression faltering. “If Captain Gantu found out… If _anyone_  else found out…”

     “I get it, trust me.” Jackson reassured her. “Meeloo, I promise, this will never leave this room. My lips are sealed. Like Wendell said, I’ve got nothing to gain from selling you out like that.”

     “I sure hope so.” Meeloo did not sound convinced.

     “You can. But… would it be out of line to ask why you did it?” Jackson tried to sound as innocent as possible, given the weight of the situation. It was honest curiosity. What could have possibly made someone so dedicated to the Federation break its rules and circumvent security measures to do so?

 

     Meeloo paused for a long time, her eyes glazing over. Pleakley was staring at her, and judging by the look on his face, he didn’t know the reason either.

     “Because,” Meeloo began speaking quietly. “One of my sisters sent me a letter. It was dated a week before I had gotten it in my box, because the Federation has to clear anything that comes through.”

     “I remember that. What was it?” Pleakley asked. “You never told-”

     “My mother.” Meeloo cut him off. “She… She was very sick. I wanted to speak to her. But I would have had to wait even __l_ onger_ to get that approved.”

     Silence fell over the room.

     “When I called her,” Meeloo’s voice quavered. “She told me she was so sick that her doctor had only given her a month to live. It was a deadly virus- one that was spreading on my planet. She contracted it, and it was attacking her organs. One by one her bodily functions were shutting down. At the time, there- there wasn’t a cure or treatment. She was scared she wasn’t going to make it before she saw me again. I-If… If I hadn’t called her with that device…”

     “You would have never known,” Jackson finished, breathless at this confession. “Meeloo… I’m so sorry.”

     Pleakley had a hand over his mouth, eye wide.

     “I took a month off,” Meeloo continued, the bottle shaking in her hand. “That explains why I vanished suddenly. I didn’t tell Wendell. Another department head took over until I got back.” Her voice was cracking more and more with each word. “I begged Captain Gantu to give me emergency leave once I found out. I don’t think I’ve _ever_  cried like that and pleaded the way I did. I’m not proud of it. But he told me that it was okay, that I’d worked very hard, and immediately took care of it himself. I went home the next day.” Tears were falling from her eyes now, running down her cheeks- some even dropped onto her uniform. “A week later, Mum passed away. I spent the rest of the month with my sisters. Grieving.”

 

     She broke.

 

     Meeloo doubled over in her seat and put one arm over her eyes, a hiccup and a few quiet sobs coming from her. Her ears had gone completely limp. She nearly dropped the bottle, but Pleakley was quick to act, rushing to her side and grabbing it. He placed it on the coffee table between both seats, sitting by Meeloo as she put both hands over her face and began to bawl.

     Jackson couldn’t believe what they had just heard. They remained silent, not wanting to intrude on such a personal moment. They felt horrible for even bringing it up, not knowing that things could go this badly.

     “I-I’m s-sorry I d-d-didn’t tell you,” Meeloo wailed, her voice quaking.

     “I had no idea.” Pleakley didn’t touch her, other than sitting by her side. “If I had, I wouldn’t have let this happen. Now I know why you were so defensive with me then...”

     “I d-didn’t have another w-w-way.” Meeloo began wiping her eyes with her sleeves, the fur on her cheeks darker from being wet.

     “I understand,” Pleakley said quietly. “Neither of us will let this slip. I know you had your reasons for doing it, but I didn’t know they were… that.”

     “You did the right thing.” Jackson piped up.

     “I’m glad I got to talk to my Mum,” Meeloo tried to compose herself, sniffling. “But I keep thinking- what if I never got to? W-What if… What if I got that letter, and _waited_  for that communication approval, only to find out it was too late? _ _”__

     “You would have never deserved that.” Jackson reassured her. “And I’m so glad that didn’t happen to you. If you _had_ waited and followed those rules, you’d have never gotten your closure.”

     “You’re right,” Meeloo mumbled. “I just didn’t want to get in trouble. I wanted to make sure I followed the rules.”

     “Meeloo, you know- rules are put in place by those in charge of us. These things are not always fair or just, and neither are the people that make them.” Jackson said this carefully. The last thing they wanted to do was make her feel worse. “You did _nothing_  wrong. Nothing. You just wanted to be with your family. Anyone else in your position would want that, too.”

     Meeloo crossed her legs and her hands were in her lap, now, biting her lower lip as she processed what was said. Her eyes fluttered shut. “You’re right.”

__

     Pleakley sat hunched over, with his brow furrowed slightly. He had one hand at his chin, fingers curled in thought. His mouth was pressed in a thin, straight line, only holding Meeloo’s hand when she had reached for his arm. He squeezed it in an act of comfort and reassurance.

     “Meeloo,” He lowered his voice. “Do you still have those codes?”

     “W-What?” Meeloo looked up, eyes still glassy.

     “The codes. The ones you used. Do you still have them?” He repeated.

     Jackson’s mouth hung open. "Are you...?"

     “Y-Yeah. I still have the device, too.” Meeloo admitted, wiping her eyes again.

     “Well, Jackson’s got no way to reach out to their family. I don’t even think they have interplanetary communication.” He paused, cheeks puffing a little as he forced himself to think out loud. “This is really hard for me to say. But- it would be better if you didn’t have this. You had a reason for keeping it then, but do you now? Is the risk worth holding onto?”

     Pleakley felt his heart rate rising. This was not like him. Breaking rules was unheard of, but Jackson was right- rules were not always fair and just. Sometimes the rules were too strict and led to circumstances like this. It was a realization Pleakley had come to multiple times, but only just now was it truly sinking in. Traditions were a lot like rules, and the ones that he had been subjected to when he lived with his family had never been fair.

     “No.” Meeloo answered him honestly. “I… I guess I just held onto it, just in case.”

     “Let Jackson have it.”

     Meeloo looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise and her ears upright. She hummed softly, her ears slowly going back, a hand moving to her chin. Pleakley let her think.

 

     “Jackson,” He began, looking toward the taller cyclops. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

     “No,” Jackson’s anger at him confessing so fast had evaporated. “No, don’t apologize. I know you just wanted to follow the rules. You’re scared of getting fired. Your positions are everything to you and Meeloo. You didn’t get there overnight.”

     Jackson swallowed, remembering how things worked back home. The Federation’s ranks for Agents were a lot similar to ranks of the experienced casters in Dis. Rising through any rank took work. Jackson had been placed into Second Class in the Federation out of sheer dumb luck, while Pleakley and Meeloo had fought their way, figuratively, to their places at the top.

     “I’m not going to let all of that work you both put in go to waste.” Jackson stated.

 

     Meeloo slowly stood upright, legs shaking a bit- she reached for the wine bottle on the table, this time taking a small sip rather than a gulp.

     “The device is in my bedroom. Look on the shelf for a red book with gold trim... It looks like any regular hardcover book, but it’s actually a case. Open it. You’ll find what you’re looking for.” She looked toward Jackson. “Just… just take it. But once you leave my dorm, we never speak of this again. This conversation _never_ happened between us. Okay?”

     “Don’t worry. I won’t betray your trust. If anything happens, I’ll take every bit of blame.” Jackson promised. Pleakley had already left to search for it while Jackson was reassuring her.

 

     Meeloo sniffled again, quickly hiding her face in her hands. Without thinking, Jackson stood and approached her to offer some sort of comfort.

     They were caught by surprise when Meeloo brought them into a very tight hug. Jackson patted her head, returning the gesture by wrapping their other arm around her.

     “Thank you,” She said quietly. “I- I’m not mad at you. This is just… It’s been a lot to deal with.”

     “It’s really okay. I had no idea what you went through. I’m sorry that I forced you into talking about this.” Jackson just held her, unsure of what else to do or say.

 

     “I found it.”

     Pleakley’s voice made Jackson look up. Pleakley stood in the doorway of Meeloo’s quarters, gingerly holding the aforementioned red book with gold trim. He stared at it as if it were some sort of cursed object ready to set eternal doom on anyone who peeked at its contents.

     “Good. Let’s take it and get out of here.” Jackson let Meeloo go, but not before checking if it was okay to do so.

     “Just be careful.” She managed to breathe out. Her voice was almost hoarse.

 

* * *

 

 

     Pleakley and Jackson stood awkwardly in the living area of Jackson’s dormitory not even minutes later. Meeloo didn’t even say goodbye when the other two left her dorm, and she immediately locked her doors once they’d slid shut behind them.

     As they tried to settle down, Pleakley was still clasping onto the box with both hands. Jackson glanced to him nervously, and he gave them the same tense stare.

 

     “I’ll open it.” Jackson offered. “I got us into this mess.”

     “No, I’ll open it.” Pleakley put the box on Jackson’s coffee table, kneeling in front of it.

     “...We’ll _both_  open it.” Jackson dropped to their knees next to him, staring at the case.

     “On three,” Pleakley’s hand reached for the mimic book cover, his eye also transfixed on the case. “One…”

     “Two…” Jackson counted next, their hand moving on top of his so they’d truly open it at the same time.

 _“Three.”_ Both voices rang out together, and the book flipped open.

     The device was tucked neatly into the mock pages of the fake book, rectangular in shape. Clearly the case was made for it, with the object fitting into the cutout inside the case like a puzzle piece. Jackson stared over the item in disbelief, but they didn’t move their hand from Pleakley’s as he held onto the opened cover. After a moment or two, they let go, the both of them afraid to even touch the communicator.

 

     Pleakley’s turned to look at his companion. “Jackson?”

     “Yeah?” Jackson didn’t stop staring at the communicator.

     “I won’t tell anyone,” He promised. “I… I didn’t know even Meeloo was capable of doing something like this. But now that I know why…”

     He didn’t finish that sentence. It all made sense, now that there was context. Now he understood why Meeloo had reacted so strongly almost a year ago, when he’d caught her with this very same device in her bedroom that day.

     “How can I __r_ eally_ be sure of that?” Jackson’s voice shook, making him sit even more upright with surprise. “How do I know you’re not going to think I’m too much of a risk and sell me out or something?”

     Pleakley’s eye nearly bulged out of his head from how wide it went. Did he really just hear that? “What in the Hazore Galaxy makes you think I’d do that?”

 

     Jackson grasped the edge of the coffee table, arms shaking as they did so.

_“...next thing you know, smaller one-eyed ‘friend’ of yours has snitched because he is afraid of what he does not know, Galactic Council marks you as dangerous...”_

     Jumba’s voice wouldn’t get out of their head.

     “...Jackson?”

     “He warned me.” They spat out, voice cracking.

     “Who?” Pleakley’s voice rose a little in worry.

     “Jumba warned me that if I took one wrong step, the Council would label me dangerous and throw me onto some space rock.” Jackson stood upright, fists clenched. Tears began to flow from their eye as they stared down at Pleakley, who scrambled to stand, thrown off by this sudden change in mood.

     “How do I know, Wendell? How do I know you and Meeloo are not going to suddenly have a change of heart and turn me in or something?”

     “You- You really think I’d just _do_ that? What about everything we talked about? When we went out together?” Pleakley felt anger bubble in his stomach amidst shock. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

     “Of course it does! But what reason do you have not to turn me in?”

     “BECAUSE I _CARE_  ABOUT YOU, JACKSON!”

 

     That sentence alone made them both freeze, with Jackson bringing both hands to their chest. Their mouth was agape, shoulders risen and their eye wide. Pleakley stared up at them with his fists clenched and his hearts pounding, but upon seeing Jackson’s face and realizing what had come out of his mouth, the rage melted away. He blinked, a tear running from his own eye down his cheek.

 

     “Wendell-” Jackson tried to talk, but Pleakley shook his head, quickly and with vigor.

     “Jackson, before you came here, I felt like I saw the universe in black in white. Meeloo helped, but other than that, I always had this… this weight on me, from my family, and what they put me through. I always thought that me being in the Federation was pointless, that I’d have to go back, and be with _them_ for the rest of my life. I never told anyone. I never talked to anyone about it the way we’ve talked.”

     Jackson moved closer, and their hands lowered a bit. Pleakley’s voice began to shake the same way Meeloo’s had when she was on the verge of tears. His hands moved up, and he stared at his open palms.

     “You… You helped me see things in color again. In just a matter of days you’ve shown me that I don’t have to fit into a mold. I’m still learning, but I’m starting to think I’m _fine_  just the way I am. You accepted me, and you’ve put up with me being confused and lost. You have something that Meeloo doesn’t. I don’t know how to describe it, but I _do_  know that I don’t want to lose it. I would _never,”_ He stopped to breathe, crossing his arms before throwing them down and outward. “EVER trade that for anything! And I would NEVER sell you out!”

 

     Pleakley inhaled deeply, his entire face turning purple with embarrassment. Admitting such feelings had been so hard, yet so cathartic all at once- but after doing so, he felt mortified and vulnerable. During his outburst, Jackson had brought one hand to their mouth, and they clenched their eye shut, brow knitted tightly. They trembled as their free hand reached toward him. Pleakley met them halfway, grasping their hand as firmly as he could without hurting them.

     “I’m s-sorry,” Jackson whispered. “There’s… there’s a lot about me you don’t know, and I’ve been so scared to say it because of this.”

     “Then you don’t have to say anything.” Pleakley’s voice shook a little less than before. “Just like you told me, you can wait until you’re ready.”

     “This is how you really feel?” Jackson asked him.

     Pleakley nodded in silence, feeling a lump in his throat.

 

     Their hands shifted just enough so that the two could interlock their fingers, squeezing tightly and their palms pressing together.

     “I trust you,” Jackson said, staring at their connection.

     “And I trust you.” Pleakley also watched their hands, before he looked up. He and Jackson’s eyes met at the same time.

 

     “Tomorrow,” Jackson’s eye drifted sideways. “Do you… want to get lunch with me again?”

     Pleakley couldn’t help but smile, surprising Jackson when they looked back at him.

     “Lunch sounds great. We could get away from… All this. And, you know, I could _definitely_ stand to see you eat an entire restaurant’s menu again.” He admitted, cracking a wider smile.

     Jackson stared for a moment, but their eye narrowed from smiling, cheekbones rising as they dissolved into a fit of shy giggles. They covered their mouth again, and soon, Pleakley was laughing along with them, though he didn’t try to hide his chortling this time.


	9. Shady

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS: This chapter contains some violence and strong language, but nothing over-the-top ridiculous or gory. A nonbinary character is also misgendered and assumed male, but not maliciously.
> 
> Mama mia. It has been FIVE MONTHS. I am sorry for leaving this fic hanging. We all know what it's like to not have your favorite work update, and I was so afraid of letting it happen to this one. Turns out I just needed a break due to creative burnout- art is what I do for a living, and when commissions are your hustle, it can be exhausting. I didn't have any creative juice until tonight, and I'm happy to say I am proud of this chapter and put my all into it. Finally, we're reaching some conflict, and much awaited story.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy!

     Lunch couldn’t possibly come sooner.

 

     Two months had passed since Jackson had obtained the unauthorized communicator. Now they sat at Pleakley’s desk, waiting impatiently- they drummed their fingers on the armrests, their eye fixated on the clock on the bottom right corner of his hologram screen. When the numbers read 12:30, according to Pleakley, he’d be back and the two of them could leave for the day. They shifted a little in the seat, which wasn’t too narrow for them, but it was definitely too short. Jackson looked nothing short of ridiculous with their knees propped so high and their feet flat on the floor. The chair had been adjusted to fit Pleakley’s height, and Jackson didn’t know how to change it.

     Neither of them had been scheduled to work that day, but Meeloo had finally given in to her stress and submitted a request for leave of absence directly to the Captain. Pleakley, being the next agent in the hierarchy, had been assigned to take her place until she came back. Jackson knew why- their heart sank when they heard the news. To try and help, they insisted on tagging along, wanting to at least relieve any pressure between the other agents. Now, Jackson was thinking they should have slept longer in their dorm- there was nothing for them to do, especially given they were a new agent at a lower rank. So many rules and regulations were in place, such as not being allowed to view certain documents, not being allowed to leave the office… It annoyed Jackson, and they slumped further into their seat and let out a sigh. Sleep sounded nice. Their eye fell shut, and their consciousness slowly began to drift…

 

     Jackson jolted upright when something slammed onto the desk, looking to their left to see Pleakley standing with his hands on his sides.

     “Jackson! Good, you’re awake.” He looked like he was in good spirits, at the very least.

     “Barely,” Jackson replied, using their long legs to push their seat back and stand. “What took you so long?”

     “Well, uh… Meeloo is going to be out for the rest of the week, and the Captain was briefing me on everything she was doing for the past month. It was a lot.” The shorter cyclops had brought a large folder stuffed with documents, and that was what had landed on the desk with a solid thud. It definitely looked heavy enough. “This is all the paperwork I’ve got to do.”

     “Bah, sounds boring,” Jackson remarked. “When does it have to be done?”

     “By the end of the week. I may have to spend my off days working on it-” Pleakley began, but stopped abruptly when Jackson’s expression fell, their long ears falling back. “…What?”

     “Even today?” Jackson asked, tone sullen. “We were supposed to go to lunch.”

     “We can go to lunch today, but for the rest of the off days this week, I think you may have to go by yourself or stay on the ship.” Pleakley didn’t seem too happy with this arrangement, either. “Look, it’s really important that I get this done. Work is work, and you’re working here too. One day you might be in my position when Meeloo is ready to retire- I’ve got big shoes to fill when she passes on her duties to me.”

     Jackson let out a “pfft,” leaning against the desk with their arms folded. “I don’t think so. I’d be surprised if I got out of Second Class.”

     “You were put in Second Class for a reason, Jackson.” Pleakley reminded them, sighing as he neatened the papers that were haphazardly stuffed into the folder. “But I digress. Still up for lunch?”

     “Of _course_  I’m still up for lunch!” Jackson responded with enthusiasm. “I’m starving!”

 

* * *

 

 

     Shortly after Pleakley had wrapped up his work, the duo hopped onto the transport ship headed to the nearest port planet. Given that the main Federation vessel had moved stations the previous day, the trip would be a little longer this time, giving them some solace as well as more time to talk. Their conversations while waiting to arrive at their destination had always taken a turn to more intense topics- Jackson did enjoy them, as well as learning more about their friend. And the trust between them and Pleakley was starting to blossom more- Jackson was confident that they could confide in him about almost anything, now. After the event with Meeloo, guilt was present in Jackson’s thoughts, but Pleakley’s confession and promise of loyalty had won them over.

     Still, Jumba’s warning echoed in their mind. The only way to know if he was right, however, was to take the risk and tell Pleakley the truth. The anxiety was obvious in their body language and their face, the taller cyclops sitting upright with one leg crossed over the other, one hand to their mouth in thought.

 

     “Jackson?”

 

     Pleakley’s voice made them come back to reality. Glancing down at him, Jackson offered an uneasy smile. “Yeah?”

     “What’s the matter?” Pleakley noticed the tension in their posture, as well as the vacant look in their eye. “You look like you’re thinking about something.”

     “Yeah. You’re not wrong.” Jackson told him, deciding to stay truthful. “There’s actually a ton of things on my mind right now. I just don’t know how to… Um…” Their voice trailed off, unsure of what to say.

     “Compartmentalize it?” Pleakley offered, his brow arching and leaning forward.

     “Yeah, that. I don’t know how compart-whatever it all. Like, there’s _so much._ I’m afraid of telling you, but I know you said I could trust you. And I’m trying. I mean, you told me so much, it’s only fair that I do the sa-”

 

     Jackson stopped talking when they felt Pleakley’s hand take theirs, fingers interlocking. Blinking, their cheeks turning red, Jackson squeezed his hand gently in response. Pleakley squeezed back- it was the first time they’d ever done something like this, a small milestone between the two of them. Jackson took note of it and promised themselves to never forget.

 

     “Like I said,” Pleakley said, lowering his voice, even though they were the only passengers present. “There’s no rush. You don’t have to tell me anything until you’re ready, and I meant that. Even if I told you everything, it was because I wanted to. Okay?”

     “Okay,” Jackson said, voice trembling a bit.

 

     They didn’t want to let go of his hand. Likewise, Pleakley didn’t either; so they stayed together until the ship came to a stop, talking in hushed voices and refusing to break that small but meaningful gesture apart. Only when they got up did Pleakley finally release his grasp. Jackson almost felt disappointed when the feeling of his palm against theirs was gone.

 

     As they stepped off the ship and into port, the two of them stayed close together; without thinking they locked arms, mostly for the sake of not wanting to be separated in the crowds, winding through together until the congestion vanished. Jackson felt like they could breathe again when they made it to the city. It was crowded still, but not as much as the port. Under twin suns, the metal of each building shimmered in their light. Fortunately, it wasn’t too warm.

 

     “Are we headed to the same place we went to before?” Jackson asked. Their mouth watered upon remembering some of the meals they ate, despite scarfing down one of every plate available.

     “I thought we’d go somewhere different this time,” Pleakley replied, offering a calm smile. “Though, I’ve never been there. I saw it on the directory and it had some pretty good reviews. You made me want to try something new.”

     “I’m flattered.” Jackson smiled wide, feeling warm from that statement. “Just lead the way. You know this place better than I do, after all!”

 

     The city was bustling with activity, though it was crowded than the last port planet they’d been to. As they walked down an illuminated pathway, Pleakley mentioned in passing that it was twice as populated, and a more well-known place for trade. Every now and then he’d glance down at an approved communication device, using it to read directions.

     “You have to be careful when you’re here.” He told Jackson, motioning with his free hand as he pocketed his device. They were passing by various fruit stands, hand-grown by the merchants that had set up shop, looking to make a living off their crops. “One wrong turn and you end up in the really shady part of this place.”

     “What’s bad about it?” Jackson asked, oblivious. “Getting out of the sun sounds nice.”

 

     Pleakley gaped at Jackson for a moment, before putting a hand over his face in frustration.

 

     “No, not shady from lack of sun. I mean shady as in _shady,"_ The smaller alien lowered his voice, leaning toward Jackson with a clenched mouth. “It’s the place you don’t want to get lost in. Criminal activity, illegal trade… You know.”

     “Oh.” Jackson’s face fell. “So it’s not safe, then?”

     “Definitely not!” Pleakley said with a scoff.

 

     They continued to walk, passing more merchant stands- this time textiles and clothes were on display. They briefly caught Jackson’s attention, though Jackson doubted anything up for sale came in their size or shape.

 

     “So… Why is it not safe?” Jackson asked, looking ahead. The crowds were becoming even thinner. “Or… Let me guess. Classified?”

     “No, not classified,” Pleakley responded. “The Federation keeps a close eye on a certain area. They call it the Black Market district, though officially, it’s got another name. There have been loads of arrests there, but now it’s getting worse. It’s dangerous to be there if you’re an agent- you either go in undercover, or you don’t go at all. Only the best get assigned on missions there. Recently there was a bust- for years there was a group of weapons dealers that avoided the Federation every time we thought we had them, and after three years undercover, some evidence led to over a hundred arrests.”

     “A hundred?!” Jackson balked.

     “That’s right. And as a result, their profits collapsed. Anyone in the Black Market district _hates_  the Federation since that bust. That’s why it’s not safe. We’re not _ever_ going there.” Pleakley chewed on his lower lip.

 

     “...How do you know about it?” Jackson pressed for more information.

     “Oh, the Federation broadcast it everywhere,” Pleakley answered without much thought, briefly checking his communication device. “Ask anyone currently enlisted as of two years ago- they know about it. The two detectives involved were given the Supernova award, presented by the Grand Councilwoman herself. It’s the highest honor _ever_  given in the Federation, and it’s rare. I mean, it’s so rare, the last time it was handed out was…” Pleakley stopped to count on his fingers. “Four decades ago! And that was during an interplanetary war. Those detectives risked their lives to bust that trade ring, so they were given the Supernova as a reward for years of dedication and putting their lives on the line. It’s not fun and games.”

 

     Pleakley paused, looking at Jackson- he recognized the horror on their face. “You’re looking at me like that, yet you wanted to see combat.”

     “I… Well, I didn’t know,” Jackson responded honestly. “I’ve quickly learned during my time here that my idea of combat and yours are _wildly_ different.”

     “Of course… considering you asked for a sword during training.” Pleakley remarked, eye narrowing. “You’ve never told me the reason, so I can’t help but wonder why.”

 

     Going a few shades paler with nerve, Jackson opened their mouth to tell him the truth but was quickly stopped when Pleakley threw his arm out in front of them.

      _“Oh,”_ Pleakley’s voice dropped. “I… Speaking of wrong turns…”

 

     Jackson looked down, seeing that the pathway they were standing on was no longer lit. The two of them had wandered into a dimly lit area, with the buildings appearing rusted and worn. Some were still in decent condition, though many were either boarded up or abandoned. They were standing in the middle of an empty square, though a small number of aliens briskly passed them or vanished into the dilapidated buildings. And instead of the powered pathway, the ground felt uneven under their feet, paths laid out in grey brick.

 

     Jackson’s heart thumped in their chest. They knew where they were.

 

     “Wendell,” They lowered their voice, glancing at him sideways. “I thought you knew where you were going.”

     “I did too! I-” Pleakley sputtered with panic, looking at his communication device with a wide eye. “I-I must have taken a wrong turn or something- I- how long have we been here? You could have told me to __s_ top talking!”_

     “Doesn’t matter now. We need to leave.” Jackson grabbed his hand, practically dragging him along as they headed forward. Pleakley let out a shrill sound of terror as they did.

 

* * *

 

 

     The Black Market district was as shady as described. Jackson stared straight ahead in frantic search of an exit, while Pleakley kept his head down, refusing to look up from the ground. Thankfully he had Jackson as a lead, his arm wound tightly around theirs while the two of them moved at a brisk pace.

 

     There were merchant stands the further in they went, though nothing was on display; and each merchant behind their empty tables stood tall and imposing, eyes following the two outsiders suspiciously as they passed. The streets were completely empty, and on the pathways off to the side, they’d spot a figure or two standing by, talking quietly among themselves. Jackson’s cheeks burned upon spotting two aliens dressed in provocative clothing. There were no lit walkways in sight, making the area darker and less alive than the rest of the city.

     There were no signs that gave any indication of where they were, or any directions for where to go. Jackson glanced back and forth nervously as they passed a group of large aliens who were gathered around a weathered table playing a card game of sorts. The chime of coins hitting metal could be heard shortly after they turned a corner.

 

     Now standing in a narrow alley, all that surrounded them were various metal crates, and the walls of the buildings they stood between.

     “I…” Jackson glanced over their shoulder, tugging on Pleakley’s arm. “Look, we may need to ask for directions. We’re definitely lost.”

     “Are you _crazy?”_ Pleakley hissed, finally looking up from the ground to stare into Jackson’s eye. “You ask the wrong person and you’ll get us both _killed!”_

     “What other options do we have?” Jackson asked sharply, motioning with their free arm. “We’ll ask for a way back to the main district, get out of here, and poof- it’ll be like nothing ever happened. We can put this behind us. Alright?”

     “Fine.” Pleakley puffed and stood upright. “But if anything happens, I’m putting out a distress signal.”

     “Alright. Just- just wait here,” Jackson spotted two aliens walking down the path toward them. Like the ones they’d spotted earlier, they were dressed in revealing clothing, shoes clicking on the brick path. “I’m gonna go talk to these two. Don’t go anywhere.”

Pleakley let out a shuddering breath as he let go, and Jackson stood upright, calmly walking toward the aliens headed in their direction.

 

     Nervous, Jackson wondered how to approach. Perhaps being polite was the best route. Not wanting to give themselves away too much as an outsider, the cyclops flagged the two aliens down by waving at them slightly. It caught their attention, both of them stopping abruptly. They both appeared feminine- one was a tall and thin alien with green skin and three eyes, her body barely concealed by a tank top and skirt. The shoes she wore looked painful, with enormous heels in the back. At her side was a shorter and chubbier alien with similar attire, though she wore no heels. Her skin was violet, freckled with brown spots, looking much like the other in species. Both of them had large floppy ears that hung below their shoulders.

 

     “Excuse me,” Jackson spoke quietly, still trying not to draw too much attention. “I know you’ve probably got places to be, but I-”

“Well, would you look at _this!”_ The taller alien spoke, her voice shrill and almost squeaky. The sound of it made Jackson’s long ears go back at how grating it was. “We got a Goody Two-Shoes if I ever saw one.”

     “Those are always the cutest ones.” The shorter one spoke up, covering her mouth as she giggled. “What’s someone like _you_ doin’ in a place like this, Pretty Boy? You look lost.”

     “I'm not-” Jackson went to correct the girls and explain they weren't a boy, but decided against that, exasperated enough already. “Yes, I’m lost. Would you mind telling me how to get back to the main parts of this place?”

     “Sure thing, Sweets.” Both aliens moved forward and hooked their arms around Jackson’s, though the shorter one tilted a hand to point behind them. “Go straight this way, and take the second right. You’ll know it when ya get there- not as many of us wanna hang around that place, and you’ll see some lights. Ain’t no lights out here, usually.”

     “You _sure_  you don’t wanna stick around, though? Boys like you ain’t come ‘round here often. You’re a nice-lookin’ fella, ya know- and way nicer than the boys that _usually_ come up to us... You got a gal back home?”

 

     “Wh- no, _no!_ I-” Jackson tore themselves away, face turning dark red. The two strangers laughed in response, the taller one swatting Jackson’s shoulder.

     “We’re just kiddin’. Not gonna make you do somethin’ you don’t wanna.” She turned Jackson around gently, pointing the same direction her partner had before. “Just go that way, ‘n when you see the lights, you’re safe. Promise. Get outta here fast ‘fore you attract some _unwanted_  attention, Pretty Boy-”

 

_**“JACKSON!”** _

 

     Jackson wheeled around fast, both girls doing so with them. Pleakley was pressed against one of the walls, hands up- though he was surrounded by three _much_  bigger aliens. Jackson’s ears went upright when he noticed that they were dangerously close to the smaller cyclops, pupil shrinking in alarm.

 

     “I said _shut up,_ prissy. Now hand it over- and don’t try to hide anything, or I’ll shoot your stupid fuckin’ eyeball out.” A blaster pressed up to Pleakley’s chest, and he let out a whimper as he fished for something in his pocket, pulling out his wallet before offering it to the bigger alien, who grinned widely. The item trembled in Pleakley’s hand, and the mugger swiped it before flipping it open, browsing its contents. His face fell upon spotting the identification card on display.

 

     “...You’re a bloody Fed.” He hissed, poking Pleakley in the chest with the blaster again, making the smaller alien cry out in fear.

     “I’m lost! I’m just l-l-lost!” Tears streamed down Pleakley’s face, voice quivering as he backed himself further into the wall, though it did nothing to help the situation. “I-I’m n-n-not an undercover agent, _p-p-promise…!”_

     “Fuckin’ liar!” One of the other aliens piped up from behind their ringleader. His face was covered in scars.

     “Yeah. Damn Feds like you can never be trusted! Blow his brains out.” The third one added. A blaster of his own was strapped to his belt.

 

     “Leave. Him. _Alone.”_

 

     The three muggers stopped abruptly and turned, eyes wide. Jackson stood before them, posture tense, shoulders broad, and their brow furrowed. Their face was dark with fury, fists clenched at their sides. Their legs were apart, body nearly curling forward as if they were ready to charge. Pleakley stopped hyperventilating, surprised enough to turn and look toward Jackson, eye wide and mouth open.

 

     “Oi, Pretty Boy!” The shorter of the two girls called from behind them. “What the hell are you doin’?! Don’t get involved!”

 

     The largest mugger of the group turned to face Jackson, all six of his eyes wide upon seeing the brown cyclops. His face contorted into a smirk before he burst out into laughter, nearly dropping his blaster; Jackson could see that he had a huge mouth with sharp teeth. Wiping a tear from an eye, the man twirled his blaster on his finger before shoving it into a holster on his belt.

     “You should listen to them, _Pretty Boy,”_ He said, getting into Jackson’s face. Jackson’s expression contorted as they caught a whiff of his breath- it smelled like something rotten and dead. “I ‘unno why them girls seem to like you, but I’m in a good mood. I’mma give you one chance and let you run back where you came. Mind your business, kid.”

     Jackson hissed, showing their own teeth- razor-sharp, with prominent front fangs. “That’s my _friend_  you’re messing with. Let him go and we’ll be on our way.”

     “HA!” The larger alien stood upright, letting out another guffaw. He turned to his buddies, pointing to Jackson. “Get a load of the gonads on THIS one! Alright, Pretty Boy. I gave you your chance. Now you’re gonna-”

 

     A flash of violet light blinded the area, followed by a deafening screech. Pleakley watched with shock as the larger alien was suddenly sent flying, colliding into the wall of the nearby building. The impact was so strong that the metal _dented,_ and the alien looked a little worse for wear. Jackson stood still, wearing the same furious expression, one hand out. The tattoos on their face were no longer brown, but glowing a saturated purple, illuminating the space around them.

 

     “I said _leave him alone,”_  Jackson repeated, lowering their hand slowly and stepping forward.

 _“Boss!”_ One of the other muggers gaped at his fallen comrade, then drew his weapon. The girls behind Jackson screamed and rushed to hide behind some nearby crates, but Jackson turned their head to look toward the next aggressor. With a lazy flick of their wrist, the weapon flew out of his hand and slid across the ground, stopping at Jackson’s feet. The cyclops glared down at it, but looked back up after a moment, glowering at the two alien men still standing.

     “What the fuck-” The third mugger had his weapon out, but was visibly horrified, trembling as he pointed his blaster toward Jackson.

     “Drop it,” Jackson commanded. Their voice had a slight echo to it, the glowing tattoos on their body pulsing as they took another step forward. “Don’t make me have to hurt you like I did with your friend over there.”

     They weren’t joking. The first mugger was now on his hands and knees, groaning from how hard he’d hit the wall.

     “W-What the fuck even _are_  you?!” The third mugger asked.

     “Stop wasting time, you fuckin’ idiot! SHOOT HIM!” The second suddenly tried to wrestle the firearm from his hand. Pleakley yelped and moved to duck behind another set of crates, just as a round from the blaster fired right toward Jackson’s chest.

 

     Jackson only stared straight ahead and watched as the plasma beam fired from the blaster hit an invisible wall in front of them, making violet light ripple from the impact. Unharmed, Jackson’s expression darkened even further, and they swiped one arm upward with force, one foot moving forward to steady themselves. Both muggers were thrown into the air with yells of their own, before tumbling to the ground.

     “Can’t say I didn’t warn you,” Jackson said bitterly, making a shoving motion with both hands.

     Both men were sent flying toward the same wall as their ringleader, colliding into it with the same force. All of them let out cries of pain from the impact, then sounds of _terror_ as Jackson moved closer, the three of them now unarmed and vulnerable. Jackson stood over them, still illuminated by the pulsing glow of their tattoos.

     “W-What the fuck- s-stop it kid! You’re fuckin’ CRAZY!” The largest of the three yelled, backing away and trying to create as much space between him and Jackson that was physically possible.

     Jackson rose their hand to send another attack their way, but they froze when something large and firm grabbed their fist.

 

     “That’s _enough!”_ A familiar, gruff voice barked.

     Jackson turned their head, only to spot a familiar, four-eyed face. The glow of their tattoos vanished and their eye widened with shock.

 

 _“Jumba?”_  They asked, breathless, trying to wrangle themselves out of his grip. “What are you-” The anger was back as they realized he was preventing them from finishing off Pleakley’s aggressors. “N-nevermind, let me _go!”_

     Jumba didn’t respond, yanking on Jackson’s arm and dragging them away in complete silence.

     “LET ME _GO,_ JUMBA!”

     “Please to be grabbing your friend, and __move__.” Jumba was uncharacteristically calm, suddenly letting go of Jackson to toss them toward the crate Pleakley was hiding behind. Jackson stumbled, landing on their hands and knees in front of their companion. Pleakley had been curled around the crate to watch the commotion, yelping as Jackson nearly landed on him.

 

     “Fuckin’ crazy freak!” The large mugger called from the wall, quickly rising to his feet, yanking up one of his minions. “Take your Fed and go, then!”

     Jackson immediately stood to their feet, hissing and moving to charge, but Jumba grabbed both of their arms in the nick of time, holding them back and pulling hard.

 

     “I’LL KILL YOU!” Jackson screamed, going into a blind fury, their tattoos glowing again. It was enough to make all three muggers step back with nervous expressions. Jackson’s iris and pupil were completely gone, replaced with the same violet light as their tattoos. They struggled to move forward and get out of Jumba’s grip, the soles of their shoes skidding on the ground. “YOU COME NEAR MY FRIEND AGAIN AND I’LL _FUCKING KILL YOU!_ I’LL-”

     One of Jumba’s large hands went over Jackson’s mouth, the cyclops wearing an expression of shock. He pressed firmly enough so that they couldn’t bring themselves to bite him, being dragged away again. Pleakley got up and hid behind Jumba’s much larger frame.

     The two girls that hid behind the crate stood up again, watching Jackson’s outburst with surprise and interest.

     “Sorry,” Pleakley quickly mumbled to the two girls. “Thank you very much for your directions.”

     “N-No problem,” The taller girl replied, eyes wide, backing away from Jumba, who was dragging away an angry, writhing Jackson.

 

* * *

 

 

     Just as instructed, the three of them eventually reached the edge of the Black Market district, spotting the lights and the beginning of the lit pathway. But even as the safer part of the metropolis came into view, Jumba didn’t let go. He wore a furious expression, all four eyes twitching as he continued dragging Jackson with him.

     Pleakley walked at Jumba’s side in complete silence and stared straight ahead, still shaken from the entire experience. He didn’t know what to make of what he’d just witnessed. He’d seen everything that Jackson did. Sure, they’d come to his rescue, but not without making a massive scene and drawing lots of attention. He tuned out Jackson’s angry growls and sounds coming from beneath Jumba’s palm, spotting the café that he’d intended to bring Jackson to. He visibly wilted; this was all his fault. Their plans had been totally ruined.

     He had never seen Jackson so angry before. They’d been upset, anxious, or annoyed- but never angry, and not at that level. Until now, Jackson had always seemed chipper and radiant with happiness and curiosity. Pleakley could only compare what he’d seen to a switch being flipped- or, in Jackson’s case, a berserk button.

 

     Looking up to Jumba, he fidgeted. “You… So you’re Jumba.” He tried to introduce himself awkwardly. “Jackson’s told me about you.”

     “Hmph.” Jumba didn’t even look at him in response. Pleakley looked back down, kicking himself internally for even trying to make pleasantries. His cheeks turned purple.

 

     Jumba eventually led them to another alley, this time lit. It was a dead-end with no way out other than the way they came, with several containers meant for disposing of broken or defective ship parts against the furthest wall. With one hand, he gently encouraged Pleakley to step ahead, before throwing Jackson in behind him, the taller cyclops hitting the ground with a solid thud on their behind. Jumba stood in the way, wide enough to block either of them from leaving the alley. He stared down at Jackson with a wild look in his eyes, two of them twitching again.

 

     “You could have been _killed.”_

     His voice made Jackson’s fury dissolve immediately. Jackson stared up at him, supporting themselves on their arms on the hard ground. Their ears went back and they looked down, face burning red with shame.

     “I was just trying to-” Jackson began, but Jumba held up a hand, making them go silent.

     “Was EXTREMELY stupid choice for you to try and play hero. This is _NOT_  floating home city of magic! Rules of monsters do not apply. You could have gotten self _and-”_ Jumba paused, expression turning into one of confusion, before looking to Pleakley and taking a breath to calm himself. “Sorry. What was name again?”

     “Pleakley,” Pleakley replied a hand over his mouth, refusing to speak unless spoken to. Did Jumba just say a city of _magic?_

     “Right. Stupidity could have cost yours AND Pleakley’s lives. Not to mention you are under Federation’s watch!” Jumba motioned an arm out in the direction of the darker district. “Now everyone who talks in Black Market is NEVER going to shut up about you! You have earned yourself infamous reputation. Is most reckless decision I have _ever_ seen you make!”

 

     He went quiet, letting out a sharp breath of his own before his brows finally knitted and his posture slumped. He bent down and offered a hand to Jackson, who took it gingerly- and Jumba gently helped them stand. His large hands moved to Jackson’s cheeks, and the horned cyclops trembled in his grip.

     “When I saw you there, could hardly believe it. Was overjoyed to see you in person again.” Jumba’s voice shook a little. “But then I realized what was happening and was worried about you. Why were you in Black Market district of all places?!”

     “I’d like to ask YOU the same question,” Jackson shot back, pulling his hands down by the wrists. They looked calmer now, and their tattoos were no longer glowing.

     “Was shopping for ship parts. Ones I needed to repair mine are difficult to obtain and not in regular circulation,” Jumba explained. “Sure, is not exactly legal- but I would get them _regular_  way if laws were not so strict. Black Market sells parts for model of ship for cheaper price, and no hoops to be jumping through...” Jumba glanced sideways, cheeks flushing. Jackson could tell he was embarrassed to be caught like this.

     “Okay, fair,” Jackson felt that reasoning was valid. “As for us, we got lost. Wendell and I were off today, and he was going to-”

 

     Jackson stopped abruptly when they realized who they were talking about. _Pleakley._ The very person they were trying to protect- he’d seen everything. They froze in place, shoulders tensing. They turned around to look at their mentor, face awash with fear and apprehension.

     Pleakley only stared back, his mouth pressed into a thin straight line. Jumba stood behind, eyes widening for a moment before his expression settled. He looked down, shutting his eyes and folding his arms; he took a step back to give the two space and let the events unfold. The corner of his mouth twitched as he frowned. He knew what was coming. Jackson had expressed their fear before.

 

     “Wendell-” Jackson began, reaching out, but pausing. When they couldn’t find the right things to say, they instead dug their hand into a pocket, before wordlessly handing something over to Pleakley. They looked crestfallen, but offered it to him without shaking.

     “Is that-? _My wallet!”_ Pleakley exclaimed. He took it gently, surprised that Jackson had even retrieved it. He whipped it open and his fingers combed through its contents- nothing was missing, a blessing despite everything else that had happened. “Thank you, Jackson.”

     “I… Of course,” Jackson responded quietly.

 

     That moment of relief didn’t last very long.

 

     “You… You’re not a telepath.” Pleakley’s voice was firm as he folded his wallet shut, the object closing with a quiet clap. “You didn’t tell me the _entire_  truth.”

     Jackson’s mouth hung open for a moment, but they brought their hands to their chest, desperate to explain.

 

     “You don’t understand!” They exclaimed, voice cracking. “I was scared! I _wanted_ to tell you, but I-”

     “I _trusted_  you,” Pleakley pointed at them sharply, a brief flash of anger showing on his face. “I… I don’t know what to make of all this. You _threw_  them! You threw those people like it was nothing _ _,__  and you… You didn’t even _touch_  them!” He didn’t dare mention seeing Jackson somehow block a shot from a plasma blaster. That was something he couldn’t wrap his head around. Jackson had dodged a bullet- _literally-_ or at least, created something invisible out of thin air to protect themselves. What kind of power did they have?

 

     “I was only trying to make sure _you_  would be okay,” Jackson reminded him. Tears were streaming down their face now, jaw and teeth clenched firmly as they tried to hold back from crying. The effort was wasted. “I- I didn’t know any other way. If I hadn’t acted, they could have hurt you. I walked away, I left you alone, I _put_ you in that situation. That was my fault. I just wanted _you_  to get out, even if it meant me getting hurt.”

     Pleakley stared at Jackson as they crumbled, before glancing to Jumba. He could see that the larger alien was choosing not to get involved.

     “I sort of understand why you didn’t tell me,” Pleakley began, Jackson straightening up as he began to speak again, the taller cyclops looking hopeful. “But I… Jackson, that was a _lot._ That was a _lot_  to see, and… I…” He paused, feeling his chest tighten. He knew Jackson wasn’t going to like what they heard. “I need some time… t-to think about all of this.”

 

     Jackson’s expression shattered completely. It was _painful_  for Pleakley to watch the hope in Jackson die, but he had much to think about. He stepped forward, wearing a blank expression as he moved past Jackson and walked toward Jumba. Jumba opened his eyes as Pleakley approached, hesitating before stepping to the side to let him pass.

     “Wait- Wendell, _NO!”_  Jackson went running after Pleakley, but Jumba quickly blocked their path, holding them in place as they tried to frantically climb over his bulk.

     “Just-” Pleakley didn’t look back, pausing to breathe. He couldn’t believe what he was doing or saying. “Just promise you’ll get back safely to the Federation ship.”

     “I will lead them to port,” Jumba promised, without even turning around. He looked down at Jackson with a stony expression, brows knitted enough to form a bump in the center.

 _“No!”_  Jackson cried out, fighting to overcome Jumba’s strength. When they realized it was no use, they gave in and stood still, slumping downward as they broke and began to sob, their face soaked with tears.

 

     Jumba glanced over his shoulder. Pleakley was already gone.

 


	10. Missing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're on a roll, baby. My creative juices are flowing. I don't have anything else to say, so enjoy this chapter! And of course, R&R and leave kudos if you liked it. ♥♥♥

     Jumba was upset that he and Jackson had reunited under such grim circumstances. After Pleakley had left, Jackson could barely say a word, overcome with shock and distress. Jumba had planned to take his friend back to port and have them shipped back to the Federation vessel after another depressing goodbye, but after seeing their breakdown, he came to the conclusion that they were in no condition to go back. They, too, needed time to process their emotions; Jumba knew that experience and those feelings all too well. He wondered what he could do to let their superiors know, but he chose to put Jackson’s well-being above anything else. Now was not a good time to stress them even further with questions about their job, especially after potentially losing their friend (and, unknown to him, their mentor).

     The both of them were now holed up in his spaceship- which was now Jumba’s home ever since his planet had been destroyed. Lying back in his bed, arms across his stomach, Jumba’s eyes were focused on the ceiling as he listened to Jackson’s bawling from the back room. He could barely stomach the sound of it. Jackson had been crying for over an hour, every now and then stopping to cough and hack. He felt upset at what he’d seen, knowing Jackson was only trying to do the right thing- but at the same time, how could they be so reckless, so willing to put their life on the line for someone they barely knew?

     To be fair, Jumba and Jackson weren’t exactly friends for years- but it had been a handful of months since they’d met and Jackson essentially saved his life. Who knows what would have happened if the cyclops hadn’t stumbled upon the wreck? His crash landing on their planet hadn’t been without injuries. The two of them had left Dis after Jumba was patched up by the Priests in the city’s largest temple. Their magic had closed his wounds, reattached his broken bones, and stitched everything back together as if those injuries had never happened. He remembered the High Priest, Jackson’s eldest brother, making a quip of surprise that Jumba could even stand. The entire experience was beyond Jumba’s comprehension, but he chose to count his blessings- he was lucky to be alive, and he wouldn’t be stranded in an unfamiliar world.

 

     Jackson’s sobbing had finally stopped. Jumba rolled over and looked toward his doorway, before shoving himself out of bed. He had planned on waiting until Jackson had finished letting out their emotions- and while he was no therapist and terrible at comfort in his own opinion, he’d be a bad friend not to try.

     Jackson was lying face down in the guest bed, which was more like a cot, though Jumba had furnished it with two pillows and a quilt for even a shred of comfort. Jackson was hiding under the blanket, face hidden in one of the pillows. There was a visible dark spot where Jackson had been crying, soaked by their tears. Jumba appeared shortly after their loud sobs had turned into quiet breaths and hiccups, standing in the doorway hesitantly before slipping through and nudging Jackson’s side.

     Jackson turned their head to look up at him. The sclera of their eye was red, and their face was glossy with moisture. Jumba frowned deeply, holding a cup of water in his left hand, the other reaching to hook his thumb on his shirt and wipe Jackson’s face. The cyclops burbled quietly, but Jumba shushed them with a grunt. Jackson didn’t protest after that, sitting up and accepting the cup of water when it was offered. They took a slow sip before tipping their head back to chug more of it down.

 

     “Can you talk?” Jumba asked, trying his best to be gentle. Again, therapy was not his strong suit. But he’d try.

     “Yeah.” Jackson’s voice was hoarse. Their throat felt raw, though the water was helping.

     “I’m sorry,” Jumba avoided making eye contact right away, feeling awkward at how things had played out. “Is unfortunate that we met again like this.”

     “It’s not your fault.” Jackson took another drink from their cup. “I just… I can’t believe he left me like that… Even if it _was_  a lot to process, he didn’t give me a chance to explain myself. Branded me a liar, didn’t even try to listen. And just like you warned me, he’s probably going to tattle to the Federation- I’ll be lucky if they don’t come looking for me.”

     Jumba’s heart sank at their words. There were few times where he hated being right, and this was one of them. His warning when they last spoke over communication lines had been in passing, more or less just trying to tell Jackson not to trust anyone so easily, but he’d unfortunately been right on the mark. A magic user among the Federation was a huge risk, and if Jackson was outed… well, there was only one thing to do, really: Run.

     Jumba’s heart hammered in his chest. He reached out, doing something he never thought he would do. He knew Jackson would accept the gesture given how they’d said goodbye to him when they parted for the first time. His large arms went around Jackson protectively, pulling them into a snug embrace, hands flat on their back. Jackson let out a tiny sound of surprise, but they slumped in his grip as they found their face pressed softly against his chest. Jumba stared straight ahead, frowning still.

 

     “I will _not_  let that happen to you.” He promised, grasping their shirt. “Am promising that.”

     “You don’t need to get tied up in this mess, Jumba.” Jackson mumbled, welcoming the gesture of affection. Without thinking, their arms went up to wrap around his neck, and their faces nearly met as the larger of the two glanced down. Jackson leaned up to press their brow to his, the two of them clenching their eyes shut as they met.

     It was strange and unfamiliar to Jumba to feel this type of bond with someone else, and yet it felt just right. Normally he was a loner, but Jackson had wormed their way into the empty space of his heart. He hadn’t forgotten how they had wished him a heartfelt goodbye shortly after enlisting in the Federation months ago, and how they’d hugged him before boarding the transport ship. That was the last time they’d seen each other until now- plus, there was no ignoring the kindness and hospitality that Jackson had displayed when Jumba had arrived on their planet to begin with. He’d managed to put aside his pride, accept their help, and be thankful.

 

     “How am I gonna talk to him?” Jackson’s voice trembled as they spoke again, making Jumba loosen his grip. “I… This is so stupid, but… Jumba, I cared about him. I really cared about him. I _loved_ him.”

     Jumba’s eyes widened. So that was why. Jackson had felt a real connection to Pleakley- something that Jumba didn’t quite get, though now he understood Jackson’s willingness to put themselves in harm’s way for the other alien. Jackson stared downward, taking another sip from the cup, though they glanced into it as they noticed their drink was empty.

     “Jackson.” Jumba brought a hand to their shoulder, holding them firmly and looking right into their eye. “Am… not quite understanding romantic feelings you were having for Pleakley. Have never had much luck with relationships of my own. You are perhaps closest friend I have- more often than not, I am one usually choosing to be by myself.” He held up his other hand in a half-shrug, glancing away as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

 

     “But, you see, I cannot help but ask- what could you _possibly_  see in Federation agent you have only known for several months?” Jumba had to ask. He felt that Jackson was becoming attached to someone who showed kindness to them a little too quickly. It was a trait he noticed in them, though he’d returned the sentiment once they got to know each other.

 

     “I’ve only known _you_  for several months.” Jackson retorted, brow furrowing in offense.

     Jumba smiled nervously and held up both hands in defense. “Ah, but- you saved my life. Prevented me from being stranded on planet full of monsters! I could have ended up wandering away from ship, carried away by winged creatures you mentioned-”

     “Harpies,” Jackson informed him, tone still displaying irritation.

     “But of course. Still- we went through a lot more together in short time versus you and Pleakley.”

     “That’s not true. We work- _worked-_  together, every day,” Jackson explained, tone becoming coated with annoyance at Jumba’s remarks. “We went to lunch together, and we’ve talked about a lot of things. He’s told me a lot about himself, and he’s alone and scared with no family to turn to. I can tell he just wants someone to love and accept him for who he is. Today was supposed to be special for us.”

     “I see.” Jumba cocked a brow, tongue in cheek.

     “Why are you asking me this? Are you _jealous_  that I was attracted to him?” Jackson probed.

     “Ah- _HEH!_ Do not be ridiculous. Am not _jealous_ of you pursuing fruitless relationship with Federation agent. You know the rules, no? Forming romantic relationships with other agents within own department-”

     “-is forbidden.” Jackson finished for him, leaning closer. “Do you _really_  think that’s going to stop me?”

     “No, considering I have now witnessed you threaten criminals twice your size.” Jumba grinned widely. “A reckless decision, if I am saying so myself. Anyways- forget him. Unless you choose to go back to Federation, he is now in the past. If you go back, you can _hope_  has hasn’t ran to Council and sold you out for being a mage. Is very likely. Imagine reward he would get-”

 

     Jackson stood up suddenly, making Jumba lean back in surprise, eyes a little wider as he got a good look at their face. Jackson’s other hand was clenched into a fist at their side, and their dark brown tattoos pulsed purple again like he’d seen before.

     “Pleakley would _NEVER_  sell me out!” Jackson jabbed Jumba firmly in the chest. The larger alien grimaced as he felt a claw poke into his skin. “He promised me, no matter what, that he’d _never_ do that. He kept his mouth shut when I went behind the Federation’s back and bought my own device so I could talk to YOU. He got me a communication device that could get us both in trouble, and he’s letting me keep it in my dorm, so in case of emergency I could reach _YOU!”_

 

     Jackson’s other hand tightened around the cup they were holding. There was a loud _SNAP_ as their strength was enough to crack it. When they let go, pieces of the now smashed item fell to the floor.

     Jumba watched with a hard stare, trying not to be intimidated by this display, but it was no use. After what he’d seen, getting on Jackson’s bad side was not a good idea. He swallowed silently, though didn’t break eye contact.

     Faltering, Jackson’s anger washed away, hands moving to their chest in stunned realization at what they’d done.

 

     “Eh- sorry. You are right. I am not knowing him as well as you.” Jumba admitted. “And yes, those are good promises, and actions show _some_  loyalty. But-”

     “I know,” Jackson looked crestfallen as they cut him off. “You’re worried about me.”

     “And he was perfectly okay with you breaking rules to stay in touch with me?” Jumba asked, calming down now that he knew Jackson wasn’t going to rip his head off.

     “You are the only person in this galaxy that can get me home or reach my family if something happens to me,” Jackson reminded him. “He knows that.”

 

     Jumba felt like he’d just been punched in the gut when realization hit, straightening his spine and his expression flickering. It hadn’t occurred to him until now, but if Jackson disappeared- or _worse-_  he’d have to be the one to return to Dis and deliver the news to their family. Just the thought of being in that position shook Jumba to his core. He was the _only_  alien that knew where their home planet was, let alone of its existence. Not even the Galactic Federation had it on their radar, unless Jackson handed over the coordinates. And, knowing how things were playing out, that much was doubtful.

     “So,” Jumba spoke to shake away those terrifying thoughts. “You love him, and you believe that he would never sell you out. Does this mean you are going back?”

     Jackson stood still, one hand grasping the other’s fingers.

 

     “I… I don’t know.”

 

* * *

 

 

     Pleakley’s eye felt swollen from how much he cried on the transport ship back to the Federation vessel, though he kept quiet while doing so. Going as far as to wait until he was the only passenger after a previous ship came to port, he refused to let anyone see him break down. The trauma of being surrounded by aliens much larger than him and having a firearm shoved against his chest was finally starting to sink in. He’d been scared out of his mind as he narrowly avoided death, or perhaps a fate worse than death. There was no coming to terms with this on his own. He resigned to the decision of seeing a counselor as soon as possible. In addition to all of that, what was supposed to be a happy day with someone he cared about had been ruined in every way imaginable.

     He felt terrible for abandoning Jackson. Even if they were with Jumba, someone that was trustworthy according to them, Pleakley had intentionally left them behind. He could never forget Jackson’s face when he told them he needed some space. For lack of a better way to put it, Jackson looked like they’d been shot through the heart.

 

     But they were a magic user. He’d heard stories of them manipulating the world around them and doing things normally considered impossible. Magic users could ignore physics, bending reality and perplexing even the most brilliant scientists. Many people, including his own, thought they didn’t exist. Some believed that magic users _did_ exist at one point but had died out many lifetimes ago, now seen as nothing more than a childish fantasy. Pleakley would have never imagined that he’d witness such a thing in the flesh, but Jackson had proved all of that to be more than fiction and speculation.

     Just as he couldn’t wipe away the moment of their heartbreak from his mind, it also replayed how monstrous and feral they looked when descending on his assailants, as well as how easily Jackson disarmed them. Those three thugs were _also_  lucky that Jumba had been there, arriving at the perfect time to hold Jackson back. If it weren’t for him, Pleakley had no doubt in his mind that Jackson would have committed murder. That was a horrifying realization to behold. The more it lingered in his mind, the more he thought about how much _worse_  things could have been.

     And yet, while curled up in his seat of the transport ship, Pleakley felt like a horrible person for what he’d done, even though he simply couldn’t comprehend what had happened and needed to escape a stressful environment.

 

     He retreated to his dorm room after landing, submitting an application for counseling before that. He was thankful to be within the Federation’s boundaries once more, and his room felt like a sanctuary as he crawled into bed. He was safe here. He would never leave and end up in a situation like that again. The warmth of his sheets felt like a cocoon, wrapping around him to shield him from the world’s horrors and dangers.

 

_Wendell?_

__

     Pleakley’s eye shot open, but there was only darkness. He was standing upright, and he looked down at himself to see that he was wearing garish wedding attire. Grimacing and looking up, the darkness surrounding him was gone. He was back at the altar, standing next to his chosen bride. Once again, he was trapped in the realm of his recurring nightmare, though something seemed far more gut-wrenching and sinister.

_How could you leave me like that?_

     The voice was closer to him this time. Pleakley’s head turned to face the bride at his left, only to see that it was __Jackson__  standing there instead. To him, they looked normal, though in this setting, they looked entirely out of place. Clasped in their hands was the same bouquet the bride of his nightmares usually had, the flowers wilted. That same expression of heartbreak was on their face from the moment he told them he was leaving. It haunted him.

__

_“Jackson?”_ Incredulous, he reached toward them, but they somehow became further and further away. No matter how much Pleakley stretched himself toward them, Jackson was always out of reach.

_“You ABANDONED me.”_

     Their voice was pained. Pleakley felt like he was suffocating. He gasped for air, frantically reaching up toward Jackson, who only watched. The pain on their face turned to unforgiving anger before he could register it.

     “Jackson!”

     Jackson’s tattoos and eye began to glow like he’d witnessed hours ago. Darkness spread, engulfing everything in its path- his family disappeared, the wedding decorations- all of it was gone, replaced by an endless, pitch-black void of existence. Pleakley watched in horror as the world fell apart before the two of them, leaving them alone when there was nothing else left. The only light came from Jackson; now they were __screaming__  at him.

_“I SHOULD HAVE NEVER TRUSTED YOU!”_

     “No, no- Jackson, please! I’m sorry! _I’M SO SORRY!”_

__

     Pleakley’s body was now in free fall, eye wide in fear and shock as he tumbled helplessly through the void. He clenched his eye shut, holding his head in a futile attempt to make it stop. Memories replayed vividly as Jackson’s voice tormented him during his rapid descent to nowhere.

 

_“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”_

_“I just can't, okay? I got in here without breaking any rules. Why does it even matter?!"_

_“Promise! You HAVE to promise!”_

_“How do I know you and Meeloo are not going to suddenly have a change of heart and turn me in or something?”_

_“You don’t understand! I was scared! I wanted to tell you, but I-”_

__

     And then, impact.

 

* * *

 

__

     Pleakley felt winded as he woke, realizing he’d rolled out of bed and hit the floor. His alarm wasn’t ringing; had he slept in, or was it still too early? He groaned and rolled over before pulling himself up by the edge of his desk to peek at his communicator. It was early- ten minutes before his alarm was set to go off. Staring wide-eyed at the screen, he breathed deeply as he recollected what had just happened. That was the worst nightmare he’d _ever_ had.

     Despite everything, he had to work. Nothing would stop him from a perfect attendance record, not even sickness or trauma. Pleakley dragged himself out of his bedroom, showered, and pulled his uniform on after drying off. Passing by a mirror, he paused to peek at his reflection, noting a bit of a dark circle under his eye, as well as a resting frown that wasn’t going to disappear anytime soon. He looked away, disgusted with himself. He’d be able to end this mess when he saw Jackson at work- the first thing he planned to do was apologize, grovel, whatever it took to get back in their good graces. The thought of being forgiven made him rush out the door, almost forgetting his card key in the process. His hearts thumped heavily as he brushed past other agents, narrowly avoiding bumping into them.

     The doors to OUT’s offices parted before him with ease, and everyone seemed to be present. He didn’t expect Jackson to walk with him this time, and he wished that Meeloo wasn’t away. She would know exactly how to handle something like this, but she had problems of her own to take care of.

     Arriving at his desk, Pleakley sat down, holographic screen coming into view. Fingers quickly tapped an input on the screen to clock in, and he began filing through the paperwork normally for Meeloo to sift through. Pleakley felt he was in autopilot mode, perking up immediately when he heard a voice.

 

     “Pleakley-”

     “Jackson?!” He whirled around in his chair, eye wide and a relieved smile on his face. It faltered when he realized that it was one of the other agents.

     “Agent Pleakley? Er. Sorry to bother you.” A reserved feminine voice came from the alien before him, her two eyestalks curling inward. Wrapped in several grey tentacles was a thin folder. “I brought you today’s report, since Agent Krazefon is absent. Captain Gantu told me you’d be filling in for her until she gets back…”

     “Oh.” The disappointment in Pleakley’s voice was palpable. “Thank you, Agent Plooka. It’s much appreciated.”

     The other agent nodded, sliding away with her numerous tentacles.

     “Wait a moment- Agent Plooka?” Pleakley called after her, leaning away from his desk.

     Plooka stopped in her tracks, eyestalks turning to look behind her. “Yes?”

     “Has Jackson- Agent Belmont- clocked in, by any chance?” He asked, hopeful.

     “No, sir. When I checked the time cards and printed the daily report, their name wasn’t on the roll call.” Plooka’s eyes lidded on their stalks worriedly. “But if Agent Belmont does come around, I will let you know.”

     “I…” Dumbstruck, Pleakley only nodded. “Alright. Thank you.”

 

     He looked back to the files on his desk as Plooka slunk away. Was Jackson really gone? Had they not returned on the transport ship? Pleakley trembled with worry, and he brought both of his hands to his mouth, grasping tightly.

_What have I done?_

__

__

     “JACKSON!”

     Jackson wheeled around, only to be met with a towel and some clothes thrown right in their face. Jumba looked mortified, quickly making himself scarce by turning the doorway and heading toward the front of his ship.

_“Blitznak,_ am going to have to make house rules with you! _Put some clothes on!”_

     “Sorry!” Jackson called after him, their face flushed. They were too tired to remember that they slept nude, unintentionally subjecting Jumba to a full moon in the process. “I sleep naked! I was just getting up to shower!”

     Stepping into the only bathroom on the ship, Jackson found it much smaller than the one in their dorm on the Federation vessel. The metal door slid shut behind them on its own, and Jackson sighed before turning one of the dials in the shower to the “ON” setting. Water began spraying from the shower head above, and they stepped in, only to scream at the top of their lungs and leap out. They stumbled, nearly slipping on the tile into a split. Jackson grabbed onto the sink, pulling themselves up as they shivered, eye wide and teeth chattering.

     Jumba’s voice came from the other side of the door.

     “Oh, forgot to tell you!” He chuckled, passing by with a basket of his laundry tucked under one arm. “Is no hot water. Only cold!”

 

     Jackson emerged from the bathroom an hour later, clean and dressed. They’d used their magic to warm up the water, as well as change their appearance yet again. Standing tall and appearing more masculine this time, their hair was back to its short style with shaved sides, though it was platinum blonde instead of black. Jumba was in the driver’s seat at the front of his ship, lounging with his legs up on the dashboard, arms behind his head. His eyes were shut, though the ones on his left opened when he heard Jackson’s footsteps.

     He snapped his eyes back shut. “You are decent this time, I hope.”

     “I have clothes on.”

     Jackson’s voice was deeper, making Jumba sit up and look toward them with surprise.

     The cyclops’ long ears flattened. “What?”

     “...Nothing. Am guessing changing looks and voice was work of magic.” Jumba went back to lounging in his chair, picking at a tooth with a finger.

     “The hair, yes. The rest, no.” Jackson sat down in the passenger seat, crossing their legs and sitting lotus-style. The chair was large in size, enough to give Jackson plenty of wiggle room.

 

     “So, what are we doing today?”

     “’We’?” Jumba looked to Jackson incredulously. “You need to think about getting back on Federation ship.”

     “What if I don’t want to right now?” Jackson gave him a hard stare. “I haven’t seen you in months. You’re my friend. I want to spend time with you.”

     Jumba, taken aback, looked away from Jackson quickly. “Ah. Well, was going to grab breakfast, then relax. No plans for today. Unless, perhaps, you are having ideas?”

     “Well, I can pay for breakfast- I got paid not too long ago, and I still have the card with my money on it.” Jackson told him. “Other than that, I don’t know this place, and I’m not sure what we could do.”

     “Eh, breakfast is good start- we can come up with other plans on the way.” Getting up from his seat, Jumba pulled a key from the ignition of the spaceship, twirling it on his finger before pocketing it and swiping something off of the dashboard. Jackson hadn’t noticed it until he reached for it, but it was gone before they could tell what the item was. Shrugging, Jackson got up, and the two of them left the spaceship not long after.

 

     It was warmer today, and Jackson could feel it as soon as they stepped outside, though it wasn’t unbearable. Jumba was quick to walk ahead, and Jackson was forced to follow behind him, trying to catch up and walk at his side. They stayed on the illuminated pathway, the larger alien absolutely sure of where he was going. Once Jackson managed to walk to his right, they noticed that many of the other aliens were parting or stepping aside easily to let Jumba pass. Some even looked nervous; others wore expressions of contempt. Jackson’s ears flattened as they wondered why.

     It wasn’t much longer before Jumba slowed down, stopping at a merchant stand. Scattered across the display were various fruits and small containers packed with premade meals. Jackson looked over Jumba’s shoulder, eyeing them with interest. The containers fogged up with steam, making Jackson realize that the food inside was still warm and fresh. Behind the counter was another of Jumba’s species, and he mumbled something in his native tongue that Jackson managed to make out, thanks to learning it from their first touch.

     “Good morning. What can I get you?”

     “Three of the rice parcels, please,” Jumba replied, also in his native tongue. Jackson’s left ear rose to listen to their conversation.

     “Three? You must be hungry.” The merchant quipped, no accent present as they spoke in their mother language.

     Jumba shook his head, looking toward Jackson. “They’re not for me.”

     The other four-eyed alien glanced toward Jackson, his eyebrows going up. He chuckled, before holding out a hand for payment. “Oh, so this one likes rice?”

     “They’ve tried some of mine. They eat like every meal is their last.” Jumba grinned, dropping some coins in the merchant’s hand. In return, the merchant handed over three of the food containers, and Jumba passed them to Jackson. The cyclops stared down at the boxes before taking them gingerly.

     “And for you?” The merchant asked, hands on his hips.

     “Two of the nutrient packs.”

     Another exchange was made, with Jumba accepting two capped vials of blue liquid instead of food. He inspected them before thanking the merchant, motioning with his head for Jackson to follow. Jackson’s ears went upright, before turning to the merchant.

     “Thanks. This smells delicious.” Jackson made sure to reply in the same language. Magic was convenient when it needed to be.

     “You’re welcome!” The merchant responded, before he froze with surprise, jaw hanging open as Jackson hurried off. “Wait, how do they-”

 

Jackson made it back to Jumba’s side, the two of them headed down the pathway again in calm silence. It wasn’t long before the port came into view, Jackson nervously clutching onto their parcels until they made it back to the ship. Unlocking the door, Jumba allowed them to slip in first, ducking behind Jackson so he wouldn’t bump his head on the doorframe. Once the two of them had settled in, sitting down at the front of the ship to eat, curiosity was getting the best of the cyclops.

 

     “People either looked nervous around you or angry, Jumba. Why?” They asked, looking toward him with a sideways glance.

     Jumba nearly dropped one of the vials he was holding, clutching it firmly in his palm. He sighed with relief when the glass object didn’t hit the floor, though he snapped his head toward Jackson and looked a little thrown off by the question.

     “I… Well.” He searched for the right way to go about it. “Ever since Quelte Quan was destroyed, entire planet’s population has become immigrants and refugees. All of us are looking for new planets to live, new homes to settle into.”

     “So what’s the issue? Those other planets would take you in with open arms, wouldn’t they?” Jackson pressed for more information, sitting still.

     Jumba smiled- but it wasn’t one of joy or amusement. _Ah, Jackson, so naive and innocent. I envy you._

 

     “No.” He answered, making Jackson blink owlishly. “In fact, is quite the opposite. Anyone who sees Kweltekwan like myself automatically knows we are homeless or searching for work. Some are lucky- some are content with living in comfort of their spaceships, like me. But those with bigger families, children, elderly… Not so much.”

     “That doesn’t make any sense.” Jackson said bitterly. “They’re people in need, __you’re__  a person in need. Living in a ship isn’t a way to live. You deserve a home. No one should have to worry about finding work or wondering if they can feed their children. It’s never been like that in Dis.”

     “Eh, is not bothering __me,__  but you are very right about rest of population. Besides- you are lucky. Floating city of wizards and magicians-”

__“_ Mages,” _Jackson corrected him firmly, making Jumba pause.

     “Mages,” He repeated, continuing his statement, though he was a little annoyed at being cut off. “City of _Mages_  is practical utopia compared to outer reaches of space. No politics. __You__  live in luxurious palace with your family. You have never had to worry a day in your life, and no, being in ranks of Galactic Federation with steady paycheck and assigned housing does _not_  count.”

 

     Balking, Jackson was silent. They couldn’t refute any of what he’d said. Jumba shook his head, standing up and tapping Jackson’s food parcels like a parent scolding their child.

     “Eat your food.”

     He slipped between the driver and passenger seats, disappearing to the back of the ship again.

     “Wait a second!” Jackson called after him. “Aren’t _you_ going to eat?”

     “Bah! Is no need.” Jumba looked back at Jackson with a grin, shaking one of the vials between two of his fingers. “On Quelte Quan, we absorb nutrients through skin. There is no ‘eat.’ Chewing is just annoying inconvenience.”

     “Mora’s Eyes,” Jackson swore to their patron god, “Your people are strange.”

     “Could say the same thing about yours,” Jumba retorted with a wink. “Eat. Today is meant to be better day than yesterday.” A surprising statement, at least when it came from Jumba.

     Rolling their eye, Jackson carefully took a parcel of food, laying it on the dashboard in front of them. They pulled at the tab holding it shut, before flipping the plastic container open.

     The scent of steamed food hit their senses, the cyclops shuddering as the vapors rolled over their horns. Their meal was neatly arranged in boxed off sections, with thick grains of rice and fresh noodles in the largest. In the last two were diced up vegetables. Jackson felt their mouth water just looking at the display. Not only that, but Jumba had been prepared- he’d bought _three_  of them, knowing Jackson’s ravenous appetite.

 

     Maybe it _would_  be a better day, after all.

 

* * *

 

 

     “Agent Belmont? _Missing?”_

 

     Pleakley sat with his face in his hands, curled up in a chair in none other than Captain Gantu’s office. The Captain was hunched over his desk, staring at the much smaller cyclops with wide eyes.

     “What is the meaning of this? What do you mean, _missing?”_

     “They were supposed to come back,” Pleakley managed to get out between shallow breaths, trying not to hyperventilate. “But they haven’t clocked in for work. I don’t even know if they took the transport ship back from Omega 14! I- I don’t know what to do! Meeloo isn’t here. She didn’t _train_ me for something like this, I-”

     “Hold on, Agent Pleakley.” Captain Gantu held up a finger, shaking it to quiet the frantic alien. “No one is prepared for this. Don’t blame yourself. Let me get a status report, and I’m sure everything will be alright. Agent Belmont probably forgot to swipe their card when coming in. Happens all the time.”

     “But-” Pleakley tried to speak again, but a holographic image appeared in midair, showing a projection of a First Class agent. They gave the Captain a salute, before nodding their head.

 

     “Agent Yix, status report. I’m looking in the system for Agent Jackson Belmont,” Gantu ordered, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms.

     “Right away, Sir!” The agent began tapping at a computer from their side of the screen. After a moment or two, their upright ears drooped in confusion. “Oh. Uh. That can’t be right. Hold on.”

     Gantu cast a momentary glance toward Pleakley, who looked like he was trying to withdraw into himself.

     “I… C-Captain, Agent Belmont hasn’t even scanned their card into the security entrance by the launch bay in over twenty-four hours. Their last scan was yesterday morning at 0900 hours.”

_“WHAT?”_  Captain Gantu rose from his seat, which stuck to his backside momentarily- it fell to the ground a second after he stood with a loud _THUD._

     “Th-That’s what it says, Sir! M-My apologies!”

     “No, no, not your fault. I apologize for my outburst. Thank you for your report.”

     Before the Agent could request dismissal, Gantu ended the transmission. He rubbed his face with one hand, letting out a deep sigh.

 

     “So you’re absolutely _sure_ the last time you saw Agent Belmont was on Omega 14?”

     “Yes,” Pleakley answered with confidence, despite his haggard emotional state.

     “Very well. Since Belmont hasn’t returned, I’ll have a search party sent out and their photo identification put out immediately across the network. Thank you for letting me know about this, Agent-”

 

_**“WAIT!”** _

 

     Gantu froze in his tracks as Pleakley stood upright, arms firmly at his sides.

     “Captain Gantu!” Pleakley bowed forward, eye clenched shut. “P-Permission to aid in the search party, requested!”

     “Are you mad? We don’t even know where Agent Belmont is or if they’re in danger. What makes you think-”

     “This is _my_  fault, Captain!” Pleakley blurted, eye still screwed shut. “Jackson and I ended up in the Black Market District of Omega 14’s main city and barely made it out safely.” He omitted the truth of what really happened. He would _not_  betray Jackson, even after everything that had transpired- not now, and not ever. Pleakley made a promise, and he fully intended to keep it.

     “Their emotional state was not in good shape when I left. I told them to return and catch up, but they never did," Pleakley continued, almost breathless.  _"I_ was the one who failed as a mentor and left them alone! _I_ should be the one to get them back!”

 

     Gantu’s lip curled. The confession was unexpected, and he was surprised that Pleakley was taking full responsibility for Jackson’s disappearance. It didn’t take very long for him to come to a decision, nodding slowly.

 

     “Very well,” He sat back down. “You, alone, will go back to Omega 14 and find Agent Belmont. If a search party will not make this any easier, I will officially assign you on a mission to bring them back in one piece. I will give you three days to do so, and I will personally see that you have all equipment and means of communication necessary.”

     Relieved, Pleakley stood upright. He gaped, his eye wide in disbelief. “Th… Thank you, Captain!”

 

_“But.”_

     Pleakley withered a little in his stance when Gantu’s firm voice came again. The Captain’s eyes were narrowed.

     “You and Agent Belmont will undergo some training together to recoup for this error. And, should you fail to bring Agent Belmont home within three days, I will consider you __retired.”__

     “R-RETIRED?” Pleakley almost jumped back, voice catching in his throat.

     “You say you caused this mess,” Gantu got up, yanking his office door open. “Now it’s on you to _fix_ it.”

 


End file.
